To Right a Wrong
by voltaire22
Summary: FE 6, with some irregularities.
1. So it Begins

Reading the two previous stories are recommended, but unnecessary in the long run. Unlikely to be a story for those seeking teenage wish-fulfillment fantasies, Stu protagonists, fairy tales, unrealistically romanticized Middle Ages, no character deaths, etc. Recommended age high school sophomore and upwards, depending on the quality of education at the high school.

* * *

It was another hectic afternoon in Seventh Heaven.

It was spring, and spring meant more business for the inn. Merchants, mercenaries, and travelers flocked from all over Elibe and the city of Bulgar was one of the great crossroads that connected nations.

Local drunkards demanded more ale. Barmaids supplied such needs with an efficiency that could only have been planned and practiced relentlessly.

Weary travelers shuffled their feet to reach the front desk, where the owner handed out keys in return for gold.

Kayleth yawned, closing his right eye. It had been seven years since the revolution that marked his last significant military engagement. Even the more rebellious nobles were now under firm control, and his King, Zephiel, ruled absolute.

All that remained for the tactician was to see his children grow and occasionally send policy advice to his friends in high places. There was also the matter of his sister Alice's impending marriage.

Most of his customers probably had no idea that their innkeeper was a Count. Kayleth snickered as he imagined the reactions of the Etrurian nobility should they ever find out that a Bernese Count was running an inn in Sacae. No doubt they'd shake their heads and mutter something about uncultured easterners.

Kayleth did not mind, though.

He was found by Lyn at the doorstep of death, who took him in as a good Samaritan. He paid back his debt of honor, helping Lyn reclaim her birthright in Lycia. In the process, he fell in love, and unworthy as he was, that love was reciprocated. Perhaps it was out of pity and no small dose of Nightingale's Syndrome, but it was no less amazing for it.

As Kayleth then set out to repay a debt Lyn owed another, namely Eliwood, he made friends of extraordinary individuals. With such friends, he tore asunder the ambitions of a mad sorcerer, slew three dragons, and executed a despot. He met two of the Eight Legends in person, and two more in spirit. He did his duty to his people and still continued to do so, pushing for reform where it was necessary.

And killing those who threatened them.

If he were to die today, he could tell whatever judge that waited for him in the great beyond that he did all that he could. Then, he'd probably plan a revolution there, too. Even dogs took care of their creations, their children. If Elimine was right and there was an omnipotent deity who created humanity, that God abandoned humanity, His children. Such a deity was not particularly worth Kayleth's devotion. He'd sooner worship pigs.

"Hello father."

Kayleth snapped out of his reverie and turned his attention to his eldest daughter, Madelyn, named after Lyn's mother. She was now sixteen years old, a blossoming young woman with dark green hair pulled back in a ponytail and blue eyes.

Madelyn carried a sword at her hip.

She did not have much in the way of combat experience, for she had only managed to sneak off to join one of her father's campaigns in subduing rebellious nobles two years ago. Kayleth shuddered as he recalled his surprise, and barely contained rage, when he found his daughter had escaped Lyn's notice to join him on the battlefield. In the heat of battle, Kayleth had no choice but to let her fend for herself, just as he had been forced to let Alice fend for herself when she was around fourteen years old. No doubt Alice had told Madelyn about her own stunt.

As harsh as Kayleth's reprimands were, he was forced to give in to her daughter's logic. After all, she had the tutelage of Karel and Guy, currently the only two Saints of Swords across the entire continent of Elibe. Madelyn also sparred with Lyn regularly, and it was only motherhood that prevented Lyn from achieving the same height of fame and experience that the two Trueblades had garnered. More importantly, Kayleth always emphasized free will as the most sacred of rights, and her will was to, instead of waiting meekly at home and worrying for her father, join him on the field of battle and defend him. Kayleth could not begrudge his daughter of that right.

Besides, Lyn gave her a scolding worthy of legends when he and Madelyn returned to their nomadic home. Kayleth was only caught by the edge of her fury, and had he not known his wife for nearly two decades, he would have thought that she would behead him for irresponsible parenting.

Madelyn was now growing into a strong woman, as befitting the blood that coursed through her veins. From her mother came the blood of a Sacaen chieftain and a Marquess of Lycia. From her father came the blood of one whose family ruled the most militant of Bern's Duchies. Her martial calling was, perhaps, inevitable.

That didn't, of course, stop Kayleth from keeping her in the rearguard when she accompanied him. Lyn accordingly took to using bows more often so as to stay beside Madelyn.

"Good afternoon, Madelyn." Kayleth ruffled her head. "If you're done sparring, why don't you go help your mother, hmm?"

"Wakarimashita." Madelyn nodded.

"Good girl." Kayleth smiled. His eldest daughter held a strong sense of duty and filial piety. The latter of the two values rather surprised him, for he was, after all, a parricide. Certainly there were extenuating circumstances, but the irony was not lost on Kayleth. He counted his blessings that he could count off with one hand the number of people who knew that to be true, and none of them would ever breathe a word of it to his daughters.

It was bad enough that his children had no grandparents, and only one aunt.

"Papa," someone whispered.

"Gah!" Kayleth jumped out of the chair, and turned around to face Pearl, the darling of his eyes. Well, technically 'eye'. Pearl had white hair that came down nearly to her waist, and grey eyes-his eyes. She was twelve years old, but didn't seem to take after her parents in terms of height… for her head barely reached past Kayleth's belly. She was not particularly gifted in terms of physical prowess, either, though she was quite inconspicuous when she needed to be as the recent demonstration proved.

Behind her deep grey eyes, however, lay an intellect that Kayleth was immensely proud of. She attended the Etrurian Royal Academy when she was eight under the patronage of the then-Mage General Erk and the former Mage General Pent. Pearl was quite knowledgeable on any given subject, and much more so on the matter of tactics, for Kayleth himself had tutored her. Of course, he had thus far strictly forbidden her from taking the field.

If Kayleth had an heir, it was Pearl. He swore, however, to leave behind a world where she didn't have to go to battle. Kayleth would study politics and war, so his daughter could choose to do anything.

He forced his heart back under control and sighed. "One of these days, you'll give your father a heart attack."

"I'm sorry, papa." Pearl pouted, dragging her toes horizontally back and forth across the ground in front of her, and Kayleth immediately submitted himself to her rule.

Pearl knew very well what kind of power she wielded over him. Her father was a very possessive man, and he counted her as the crown jewel of his possessions.

"Oh, it's alright, dear. I can probably survive another hundred." Kayleth felt inordinately relieved when he saw a smile back on her face. "Do you have something for me?"

"Umm… ah, there was a letter about irregular troop movements in the border Duchies of Bern. Apparently they're having a vast military exercise in self-defense. King Zephiel is overseeing them personally."

The King had already informed him of that a couple of days ago. "Vaguely interesting but of no particular significance. Go on."

"Uncle Hector says hello and also asks your opinion on the matter of Bernese military expansion and Lycian-Etrurian tariffs."

"Alright… I'll send him an answer immediately. Next."

"Roy onii-chan says hello. Uncle Eliwood's sick, but they expect him to get better soon."

"Oh? That's a surprise… Eliwood is, after all, the greatest Knight Lycia has produced in a century," as well as being possibly the most criminally incompetent Marquess in the history of Elibe.

"The rest are an assortment of 'how do you do's' from your other acquaintances and friends." Pearl knew well that his father despised 'waste of paper' and especially letters of the 'how do you do' variety.

"Whatever would I do without you?" Kayleth lifted Pearl from the ground, and kissed her on both cheeks, inciting giggles from the girl.

"Probably-"

There was a loud noise as the wooden door to Seventh Heaven was torn from its hinges. A wyvern and two riders rolled on the ground.

There was blood. Pearl screamed in horror.

One of the riders had blonde hair, and the other had a mix of silver and green. The woman wore a ring, and the gem took the form of a white hawk.

"Lysander!" Kayleth shouted as he rushed toward the two riders, summoning the resident healer to his side.

"Kayleth, I'm alright! But Heath-"

Kayleth tore his sister from the Wyvern Lord's side, eager to confirm his analysis. He found no visible wounds that mattered, mere scratches at best.

Heath, on the other hand, was a ragged mess of injuries, blood, and broken bones.

The innkeeper found it impossible to come up with a rationale for the scene that lay before him. Hundreds of soldiers were tasked with defending their Duchess.

Lysander, a veteran Bishop that Kayleth had hired over six years ago, started chanting to the Eliminean God to save Heath.

Kayleth helped, removing a flask of elixir he kept at all times on his body and forcing its content down the Wyvern Lord's throat. He signaled Nasu, one of his enforcers, to warn his customers of the situation and keep them from panicking. The Sacaen nodded, and entered the dining hall, closing the door behind him with alacrity.

Heath sputtered, coughed, and then roared in agony when Kayleth pulled out a barbed arrow lodged near his groin. As Lysander continued his ministrations, Kayleth whispered, "That is good, Heath, feel the pain. Savor the pain. Pain means you're alive. Pain means there is yet hope. Fuel your rage with your pain, and feed your life with your rage. Damnation, man, you're a dragonslayer, you deserve a better death than this!"

As the worst seemed to pass, Kayleth signaled Lysander and another of his enforcers, Siaoran, to move his body to one of the rooms.

Alice rose to follow, but Kayleth grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to another room. Pearl followed.

As Kayleth shut the door, Pearl handed Alice a blanket, staring at the blood covering her.

"What the hell was that?" Kayleth whispered, forcing her head on his lap, but with loving care. He began massaging her neck, for it was one of the best ways to relieve tension. Pearl scrambled behind him, her arms around Kayleth's neck, and peered over his shoulder at her aunt.

It took Alice a minute to even begin speaking, but Kayleth continued to comfort her and encourage her.

His sister's monotonous, hollow tone speared through Kayleth's heart like a thousand daggers.

"The King… t-the King's gone mad, Kayleth."

That puzzled Kayleth. "What King?"

"Zephiel… I can't believe I didn't notice it before."

Now the tactician was baffled. "Eh… what?"

"Whatever madness possessed King Desmond now possesses King Zephiel. Kayleth, he means to unify Elibe under his banner, by force. He commanded me to persuade you to join him. He promised you and yours would be spared."

Kayleth felt like he was hit on the head by a hammer. "You should've taken his offer."

"What?!"

"You shouldn't have risked your life by refusing, and it's always easier to destroy from within than it is from without."

It was far too early for Elibe to be united under one government. Communications problems and bureaucratic ones were insurmountable. Zephiel had asked him that question two years ago.

"The invasion force for Sacae arrives in a week, brother. Its first target is Bulgar."

The tactician felt his choler rise. Bulgar was home for his family for nearly two decades. But far worse was the realization that Zephiel, whom he had played a big role in establishing as King of Bern, was about to wage war; it would be a war to dwarf the scale of the one that took place a scant seven years ago.

"I protested. I came to warn you. I barely escaped after meeting him and his Praetorians near the border. I only had a few Wyvern Knights with me, and they were all slain… Heath grievously injured…. I've failed Bern and Elibe, Kayleth. I've failed my subjects. I've failed… you."

With that, Alice started sobbing uncontrollably. Not knowing what else she could do, Pearl joined in, hugging her aunt tightly as she shared in her grief.

Kayleth was stunned. His heart ached at the sight before him. His mind raced at the implications of the news. Zephiel, the King he had installed to be an enlightened ruler to lead Bern out of the darkness, now prepared to wage war against the rest of Elibe. He nearly killed Heath, a most honorable Knight and friend.

Zephiel tried to kill his sister, made her daughter cry, and threatened to harm the rest of his family as well. The King of Bern had turned on his subjects, the people of Elibe, and his benefactors. Kayleth had done a great disservice to Elibe.

Kayleth's mind was quick to react, and there was only one reaction to someone who threatened the very few things he cared about, execution with extreme prejudice.

Through the rage, he could see the hallucination of his father, grinning. A part of him had always wondered what kind of a role he would play in an international war, the war he was bred for. Granted, he was trained to be on the Bernese side, but that also meant he knew a great deal about what Bern's armies likely would do.

He would be lying if he did not admit to being somewhat excited about the prospect of fighting a war he was born for.

* * *

Bulgar's City Council refused to believe anything that came out of Kayleth's mouth, believing that there must be a reason, any other reason than war, for Zephiel gathering his forces.

Zephiel's installment on the throne was supposed to prevent the war. Sacaen blood was shed in the Bernese civil war for it.

Kayleth did what little he could with the military efficiency bred and trained into him.

He closed the inn, kicking the customers out on to the streets, giving them the gold they had given him. The Sacaen enforcers and all of the barmaids were dismissed from service. At least they believed in his warnings.

He sent the Etrurians, Lycians, and Ilians in his employ packing back to their home countries.

Kayleth then sent letters, by the Ilian mercenary network's courier service, to Erk, Fiora, Rath, and Hector. He also sent one to his chieftain, the chieftain of the Borjigin. Kayleth beseeched them all to gather their strength as quickly as they could, but to never meet the Bernese armies directly on the field. The swift armies of Ilia and Sacae would be better suited to guerilla warfare. Lycian armies would do best entrenched in their mighty fortifications along the Bernese border.

"We're ready, Kayleth." Lyn said quietly. It had taken hours of heated argument to convince Lyn that hope lay in Lycia and that there was nothing they could do about the fall of Bulgar save die with it.

"To Araphen, then." Kayleth said.

On foot, it would take weeks to arrive at Araphen.

It only took three days as the wyvern flies, and there were four wyverns between six people, more than enough.

Kayleth only prayed that he was not too late.

* * *

Rath and Dayan gathered the combined might of the plains and rode to Bulgar. The proud sons and daughters of Sacae would never give an inch of ground to the Bernese again.

Not without making them pay for every inch with blood, that is.

After all, Bern's military might rested in the hands of the Wyvern Knights, and arrows were deadly against fliers. Furthermore, they had a Saint of Swords with them; technically, there were two, but the other one was missing as usual. There was no way that the Sacaens would give up without a single battle; Kayleth, though a good friend, was not fully Sacaen, he couldn't possibly understand this.

So the major tribes of Sacae gathered their warriors at Bulgar, seeking to stop the Bernese from the outset.

Bernese foot soldiers swarmed across the landscape, a sea of crimson armor to overwhelm the horselords.

Initially, the battle seemed to go in the nomads' favor. Hundreds were killed by the combined volley of the mounted archers, and javelins simply did not have the range to enable the Bernese to retaliate. Bernese archers did not have the mobility to get into range.

The Sacaens' resolve was to be put to the test, and the test came in betrayal and fire.

The Djute clan suddenly broke from formation upon the fifth volley, and let loose their arrows upon their fellow nomads. Confused, the rest of the Sacaens floundered in dismay as the Bernese forces closed the distance. They could not exact justice from the traitors, for they had far greater concerns.

The land was bathed in fire as dragons joined the fray.

To their credit, the Sacaens did not break formation in alarm. Many were able to withdraw in good order.

Just as many remained behind to make good their comrades' escape. The worst retreats came in routs without rearguards. The Sacaens knew some needed to stay and distract their enemies.

Among those who remained was Rath, the heir to the Kutolah, the outcast prince who had returned after having helped save the world from Nergal.

Though a prodigiously skilled archer, Rath was a mere mortal. After blinding three of the bigger dragons, he succumbed to his burns after jumping into one of the blinded dragons' mouth and plunging his curved sword upwards. The dragon released more flames in its death throes. As was characteristic of his usual demeanor, Rath fell wordlessly, falling into the chasm of the dragon's gullet.

The Kutolah present wailed and redoubled their efforts, seeking to avenge their prince.

In the streets of Bulgar, Bernese troops massacred all Sacaens, whether they were men, women, or children.

The proud Swordmasters and myrmidons engaged Bernese forces in brutal urban warfare.

At the forefront of such efforts was Guy. Taking one large avenue upon himself, he shouted his challenge to the Bernese troops before him.

The general in charge of taking that avenue snorted, wondering what Guy, and a handful of Swordmasters that moved to support him, expected to do against hundreds of his conscripts.

Underestimating the Saint of Swords and engaging him without ranged support was a fatal error in judgment, for half the Legion died by his shining blade.

The rest of the Legion was not as fortunate, for Guy knew that wounded and crippled soldiers presented a drain on Bernese resources. Dead men don't require upkeep. Wounded ones do. Guy was careful to aim for arms, legs, and fingers.

Then came the dragons.

The Trueblade found a death worthy of his title. Rather than giving in to the despair, Guy jumped on the dragon in front of him. The dragon thrashed about, and took to the skies, but Guy inched ahead towards the dragon's forehead, using his dagger and sword as handholds. He eventually found the soft forehead between the dragon's eyes, and plunged his sword in.

As the dragon plummeted to the ground, Guy took a deep breath, and jumped off the dragon, dropping sword first on the spinal cord of another dragon that was terrorizing the city.

Guy did not survive the impact, but neither did the dragon.

Even though a great deal of the mounted archers escaped, many Sacaens continued to resist within the city. The primary walls were quickly overwhelmed by the dragons, but there were certain pockets within the city that were defensible forts in their own right. The massive pre-Scouring temple complex dedicated to Earth was one, and many Bernese soldiers died in the labyrinthine structure. Many citizens managed to escape through the labyrinth with the help of the priests.

Another such site was the fort that served as a place of assembly for the various chiefs of Sacae. Thankfully, someone had burned the Djute flag as soon as their treachery was known. It did not, however, deter the Djute traitors from overwhelming the loyalist Sacaens to get to their ultimate prize: Murgleis, the divine weapon borne by Hanon.

Eventually, the stubborn defenders were hunted down and killed one by one, until not a single Sacaen remained alive within the city walls.

Thus ended the siege of Bulgar, which proved to be the decisive battle for the control of Sacae.

* * *

The Ilians, having heard the testimony of one of their greatest Captains, Fiora, prepared to defend their frozen homeland. All Mercenary Knights who could return in time were summoned.

The Ilians almost discovered the Bernese armada approaching their only warm-water port too late.

Amphibious landings, as everyone knows, were tricky to pull off. The ships could be set on fire, the landing zone may be filled with traps, it was easier for the defenders to concentrate forces, etc. The Ilians gleefully placed most of their forces at the port in rapid deployment, made possible by the nature of most of their troops being mounted.

Horseback Mercenary Knights crushed the first wave of Bernese soldiers who landed on the shore, their momentum driving them back to the sea.

Encouraged, Pegasus Knights soared towards their triumphant but beleaguered brethren. The Bernese had archers, but not as many as they should have had, and many ships were sunk outright or driven away by the suicidal frenzy of Pegasus Knights carrying pots of oil and torches.

That was until the bigger ships in the rear arrived, ballista bolts crisscrossing the sky, and in most of their holds were thirteen Hamorian Legions who were led to believe that the Etrurians had conspired with the Ilians, Sacaens, and Lycians to assassinate their beloved Duchess.

Centuries of natural selection by battle were pitted against centuries of natural selection by battle as the Pegasus Knights tried to set fire to the ships with the Hamorians. However, Pegasus Knights were infamously prone to death by arrow and plummeting from the skies whereas Wyvern Knights could usually take two or three arrows.

Another surprise was in store for the Pegasus Knights, and that surprise launched themselves into the air roaring for one of their favorite snacks, Pegasii.

Despite their comparative lack of strength and armor, Pegasus Knights could usually hold their own against Wyvern Knights by the virtue of their agility and speed.

The dragons were another matter entirely, and the coordinated defense that the Ilians had bravely put up was turned into a rout.

Some refused to admit defeat, and fought on as their comrades exited the field.

Among the resistance was Kent, the Crimson Knight of Caelin. After slaughtering scores of Bernese soldiers, he found himself in the middle of numerous enemies while those who had charged with him were either dead or retreating. Bolts of magical thunder crashed into the Paladin. Kent put on a grim face, for he knew that Fiora was still fighting on somewhere, and decided to plunge deeper into enemy lines. His lance broke first, caught in the ribs of a foolish Wyvern Knight who challenged him. Kent threw his sword in the face of a Sage that threatened to burn him alive, and continued battle with his axe. By the time he stopped, he and his mount were riddled with arrows; their armor fell, shattered to pieces and scorched black, and a ballista bolt jutted out of his back.

Fiora cried in rage, having seen Kent's death while in the thick of fighting off Wyvern Knight pursuers. As she ordered her wing to fall back, she vowed to take at least one dragon with her. After skillfully maneuvering around the Wyvern Knight screens, she found herself face to face with a dragon. Evading the dragon's breath, Fiora plunged her lance into the dragon's unarmored belly and repeated the process twice. Shouting in triumph, Fiora turned to engage the next dragon, but was surprised to find herself falling to the sea. She realized that her Pegasus was hit by a ballista bolt, and she only had time to wish her last sister and her niece good fortune before she plunged to her death, the impact shattering most bones. A Wyvern Knight, wishing to grace himself in the eyes of his commander, rescued her corpse that he may present it to him.

On the other side of the battlefield, a fierce boarding action raged on the deck of one of Bern's greater battleships.

A hurricane of berserk rage and mighty axe swings, Dart plowed through the enemy, catching all of the ship's officers off-guard. Armor meant nothing to the ferocious strength of the Berserker. Farina provided aerial support, fighting off the Wyvern Knights who tried to plunge their lances into Dart's back.

As great a strength as a berserker's rage gives him, a berserker was still mortal, and berserkers took more injuries than most. Dart's brains simply did not recognize that he was dead until a minute after his internal organs were all punctured and burned by the defenders. He only fell because two of the defenders tackled him, deeming him to be a threat worthy of their sacrifice. The soldiers kept hacking him, terrified that he might rise again to butcher them all.

With a battle-cry to defy the heavens, Farina exterminated the battleship's contingent of Wyvern Knights, and killed the archers manning its ballistae. Unfortunately, another battleship swerved in to save her sister's crew, and a hail of arrows killed her loyal mount, Murphy.

Even on foot, the Captain of the Strongwings was a force to be reckoned with. Her anger at Dart's death lent her strength that she was not meant to have, and she butchered the rest of the ship's crew, until she turned about and realized that she was the only one alive on the battleship. All of her squad members were also dead.

Appalled by Farina's fury and prowess, the admiral of the fleet brought in the dragons. Three dragons made a pass to set the battleship on fire. With little choice left to her, Farina jumped off.

And she swam her way to the flagship.

This development was so unexpected that Farina managed to kill two of the admiral's personal guards before she was subdued by her body's exhaustion, crumpling to one knee and swinging her lance about clumsily. The admiral took pity on her and grabbed her by the neck. Farina struggled, but it was a dead woman's struggle, and the admiral twisted her neck in one smooth motion. He called a moment of silence to honor the frightening courage of the Ilian, and told his soldiers to emulate her example, if only by half.

A great host representing most of Ilia's military might was destroyed that day, and reeling, the Ilians' Council surrendered unconditionally.

Many Mercenary Knights, however, saw this as unacceptable, and vowed to fight Bern to the bitter end. Messengers were sent out to the mercenary companies scattered across the continent, beseeching them to return and help defend their homeland.

* * *

Oblivious to the turn of events in Ilia and Sacae, Kayleth, his family, Al, and Heath came to Araphen. Due to the weight bearing down on their wyverns, carrying two people and their supplies each, it took them four days to arrive.

Erk, Serra, Priscilla, Dorcas, Sain, Oswin, Matthew, Nino, Jaffar, Wil, Raven, Lucius, Rebecca, Lowen, Legault, Wallace, Geitz, Harken, Isadora, and Renault were at the castle's northern gate to greet Kayleth. The newly arrived and the waiting mingled, greeting each other with evident delight.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Kayleth grinned, "I can guess how everyone else could be here, but… how did you get here Lord Erk, Lady Priscilla?"

"A timely diplomatic mission and the fruit of Lord Pent's research in warping." Erk grinned back. "It seems that, though Bern has yet to declare war on Etruria, I found myself cut off by the besiegers and was forced to fight with the defenders!"

"I don't see any besiegers…." Pearl looked around, and confirmed her belief.

"Really?" Priscilla asked, having seen the child before in Etruria. "I think I see them everywhere. I'm afraid it's not safe to go out now."

"Ha, fair enough. If they decide to act, I suppose your involvement gives the nobles an ironclad excuse to intervene. And you two… how did you escape, Nino, Jaffar?"

Nino gave him a sad smile. "The County that my Barony is part of is ruled by a fervent Loyalist, Kayleth. We had advance warning, though… Jaffar slit his throat and we pulled away all of our loyal retainers. They have joined the Lycian army, though they are few in number. We tried to send word to you, your Grace, but you had already fled. I apologize for the failure in my stewardship of your lands, Your Grace."

"It's no trouble, Nino. It is I who should apologize…." Alice said, waving off her apology.

"Hmm… where's Marcus?"

"He's with Lord Roy, Kayleth… and Wolt. Lord Hector sent for them to retrieve Lord Eliwood." Rebecca supplied helpfully.

"Retrieve Eliwood? Eliwood isn't here?" Kayleth's eyes narrowed. "Lycia is about to meet its greatest threat in centuries and its greatest knight isn't here? His greatest vassals and his levies are here, but the Marquess refuses to take to the field?"

"No, and Lord Hector requests your presence in the War Council immediately." Oswin said.

"Still robust as ever, I see? Oswin, you should really retire after this battle." Kayleth chuckled. "I see having a powerful Bishop for a wife does wonders for one's health. Ah… Lyn and Alice will be coming with me. That is no problem, I presume?"

"Not at all." Matthew answered. "The others will be entertaining your daughters in the meantime."

"Excellent. Lead the way."

* * *

"Marquess Araphen, mine host." Kayleth bowed, smiling sardonically. "It seems that you may need my help this time around, yet again."

Marquess Araphen had no idea what the newcomer was talking about.

"Kayleth! Lyn! Alice!" Hector embraced all of them at once, and Kayleth considered a fat joke, but restrained himself. He extricated himself from the embrace after a few seconds.

"My Lords, and Ladies, of the Lycian League, I bid you greetings all!" Kayleth bowed, one hand tucked under his stomach and the other stretched out to the side. "Allow me to introduce my companions and myself. I am Kayleth. This is my wife, Marchioness Lyndis, the granddaughter of the late Marquess Hausen, and this is my sister, Alice, the Duchess of Winterfell."

The other Lords present raised an incredible din, shaking fingers at him. Kayleth ignored their words, for he knew the general gist of their objection.

"I am well cognizant of the role I played in helping King Zephiel take the throne. That said, I had no reason to believe that he would decide to start an international war. But consider this, my Lords, consider this! Would I not be at the forefront of Bern's army rather than here if I were still serving him?"

Another uproar shattered the peace of the hall.

"Silence!" Hector's Wolf Beil crashed into his desk. The rest of the Council obeyed instantly.

"Consider this also, my Lords. Do you truly think you can defeat Bern without my help? You know who I am. You know what I did. You know the odds that I overcame. You know that I know about the Bernese army best. If you truly believe you have a tactician who is more fit to command, I will take my leave at once."

There was a dead silence. Some muttered here and there but there really were no alternatives who would satisfy the political realities of all the cantons.

"You may take your seat, Lady Lyndis." Hector said, gesturing to the long unused table and bench for Caelin.

Lyn nodded, and led by Sain, took her seat. Alice and Kayleth followed suit.

"The Council recognizes Matthew, Director of the Ostian Intelligence Agency." Hector continued as though nothing happened, his axe still visible.

"Thank you, milord Hector." Matthew said.

"How did we not recognize this threat for this long?!" a noble said, pounding his table.

Matthew smiled benignly. "It is customary for the Council to wait for the person summoned to the podium to finish their speech, Count Makarov. The answer to your question, however, is that… as far as our highest source in the Bernese military structure knew, King Zephiel was truly conducting military self-defense exercises along the border. The news that they are actually an invasion force arrived only two days ago, and only because a relay of Pegasus Knights risked their lives to bring the news to us. Are you satisfied with the answer, Lord?"

"Who is this highest source in the Bernese military structure?"

"I am, Lord." Alice answered. "Unless you've managed to find another, Matthew?"

"Naturally not." Matthew shrugged. "Your Grace is just about as high as one can go without suborning one of the Wyvern Generals."

"Hmm… I am quite close to Wyvern General Murdock, too, Lords. I am confident when I say that he did not know of King Zephiel's plans, either. I only found out a week and a half ago because I was ordered to bring levies and household troops to the front. Contrary to his orders, he also requested that I bring months' worth of supplies, at which point I caught on and verified his true intentions."

"Your Grace, do you bring such reinforcements with you?" one of the other Lords asked.

"The levies were conscripted into the army. My most loyal knights died getting me past the borders." Alice shook her head, a pained expression on her face. "In light of that fact, and the imminent invasion of Sacae and Ilia, I, Alice, Duchess of Winterfell, formally request the Council asylum for myself, my brother, my nieces, and Sir Heath who is my bodyguard."

Hector retook the podium. "The vote will be held now. All raise hands for aye."

Slowly but surely, most hands were raised. Hector glared at those who did not, as if daring them to vote against the motion, his axe in plain sight. Finally, all hands were raised.

"Excellent, the ayes have it." Hector smiled. "I bid thee, in the name of the Council, welcome Lady Alice, Lord Kayleth, and Lady Lyndis."

"Thank you, Lord Hector, and the Lords of the Lycian League. As you have pledged to protect us and ours, we pledge to do our utmost to protect you and yours." Kayleth answered, his glib tongue making the most of the situation. "Unless I miss my guess, I am the most experienced, not to mention wildly successful, tactician Lycia has. I request that I, Kayleth, be given the position of chief strategist in the coming crisis for the Lycian League."

"The vote will be held now. All raise hands in favor of Count Kayleth serving as our chief strategist!" Hector shouted, eager to get the meeting over with.

Realizing that they had little in the way of choices, all the Lords raised their hands with haste.

"The ayes have it. Welcome, Count Kayleth, chief strategist of the Lycian League. I give the podium back to Matthew, Director of the Ostian Intelligence Agency."

"Thank you, Lord Hector. Now, as I was saying-"

Kayleth proceeded to block his one good eye with his left hand, and fell asleep.

* * *

The meeting finally ended after two hours of a great deal of bickering about who'd pick up the costs for the war. Naturally, everyone wanted to win the war without paying for it. Thankfully, Kayleth only had to worry about the winning part.

"This is unacceptable, Hector. We have to drag Eliwood here, and I don't care if he's sick. I'm not sure Roy is up to escorting him here."

"Kayleth, he might be seriously ill!"

"Our scouts and spies report that Bern will take at least two weeks to get here? That is enough time… as the wyvern flies." Kayleth said, calculating what forces he could gather at Araphen before the arrival of Bern's armies. It was an idiot who led his army against a superior force. He had to think of what he could realistically achieve given the limited war material at hand..

"Yes, Hector. Lyn and I will go fetch Eliwood. The children can come with us, too. After all, Pearl has a wyvern." Alice said.

"Even if he is sick, his mere presence will do wonders for the morale of the men. I can take them, Hector, but only if Eliwood is here!"

"I agree, Hector. Eliwood doesn't even have to fight. He can just prop himself up on a horse, wear a little armor, brandish some steel, and that'll be enough." Lyn said.

"What will you do?" Hector asked Kayleth.

"Plan a miracle, of course. I think Zephiel will personally lead the attack on Lycia, seeing as it is the strongest nation neighboring Bern. If we can get him… they will crumble. I'm fairly certain you or Lyn can kill him in a duel. I'm positive Jaffar can assassinate him. Nino and Renault have reasonably good chances, too."

"It's settled, then. Lyn and Alice will go bring Eliwood here. When can you leave?"

"Dawn. Just bring us some supplies and we can do it."

"I'll see to it. Good night, and good luck to you both. Godspeed."

"Good night, Hector. See you in two weeks."

"Good night, Lord Hector, farewell."


	2. A New Champion

"Castle Pherae…" Marcus said. He basked in nostalgia.

"Yes, it's been a while, hasn't it?" Roy said. "I'm sorry to have kept you from it so long."

"Oh, no, Lord Roy." Marcus shook his head. "A knight cares little for his own comfort, for it is his lord's comfort and well-being that comes before it. I swore an oath to defend the house of Marquess Pherae to your grandfather, in fact, to defend him, his son, and his grandson. Then, I swore an oath to your father to defend him and his son. I will, no doubt, swear the same thing to you though I regret being asked to defend your son is a little optimistic."

Wolt eagerly lapped up every word, nodding sagely. Sometimes, Wolt's devotion was worrisome to Roy. When he became a knight of Pherae, he insisted on calling him 'Lord Roy' at every instance despite having shared the same teat.

Roy was quite convinced that Wolt's greatest desire was to be Marcus, or, failing that, to emulate him in every way he could.

He knew because Wolt swore the same thing Marcus did, only to Roy. Somehow, the oath included great-grandchildren whom, Wolt had no doubt, would have either blue or red hair. Red he could understand. Blue he could not. Pheraen Marquesses always had red hair.

Roy sighed. It was the same way with most people. They saw him as Marquess Pherae's son first and foremost. He could count the number of people who did not on two hands.

The news that Bern was preparing to attack Lycia caught him unawares. After all, wasn't King Zephiel the one his godfather and godmother supported in his rebellion against the tyrant, King Desmond? He remembered because Madelyn and Pearl stayed at Castle Pherae throughout the ordeal. It usually fell to him to comfort Pearl, who was only five years old. Why Bern would invade now, Roy couldn't imagine.

"_Not that they will succeed, of course… my father and his friends are dragonslayers, after all. Lord Hector is the finest warrior in the realm and my father the finest knight. The report two days ago suggested that godfather had arrived as well, and according to father, he works miracles on the battlefield. Godmother is the most accomplished Swordmaster anyone knows… save maybe the two Saints of Swords. Sirs Lowen and Harken, Rebecca and Wil, and Dame Isadora are already there. Sir Oswin, Matthew, and Lady Serra as well. Surely they can't lose?_"

Roy shook his head, dispelling his doubts. Once his father was escorted to Araphen, the morale of the Lycian army should be more than sufficient to overcome any disadvantage it might have.

"Worried, young Master?" Marcus asked.

Roy shook himself out of his thoughts to answer. "No. I have no doubt that we'll win. Father and his comrades are dragonslayers. You're a dragonslayer. We'll be commanded by my godfather, who destroyed an organization of assassins numbering in the thousands with no more than two scores of soldiers and led a successful revolution against the tyrant, King Desmond. We also have Lord Hector on our side, and if ever there was a god of war, it is he."

"Aye, aye! Lord Oswin is the finest Ironblood to have ever graced the battlefield, and our Marquess is, well, Lord Hector!" Bors said with a booming laughter.

"Well said, young Master." Marcus beamed, and Wolt nodded, making his approval clear.

"My parents can shoot anyone at more than a hundred yards! If Zephiel shows his face here, he's certain to become a porcupine."

"I don't doubt that at all, Wolt." Roy smiled, for he knew that Wolt's parents were expert marksmen. Why, he hardly needed to lift a finger during the annual hunts, as Rebecca and Wil would shoot any that dared try to escape. More importantly, humans made much easier targets than birds or rabbits. He learned that the hard way with blunt arrows shot by his milk-mother… for training purposes, his godfather insisted.

"Indeed. I remember Rebecca and Wil striking the dragon's eyes with unerring accuracy, even when it shook its head in anger! But you're wrong on one account, Wolt." Marcus said the last part with grim seriousness. Roy and Wolt leaned in to listen to what Marcus had to say. "If Zephiel takes to the field, I will be the one to plunge my lance into his heart!"

Roy, Wolt, Bors, and Allen, who just returned from relieving himself in the woods, burst out laughing. Marcus grinned as he saw the fruit of his labor.

"Eh… Lord Roy, I think I see Lance coming to meet us." Wolt said, his eyes narrowing as if to discern whether there was a mosquito on the knight's face.

"Huh? Why would he do that?"

The cavalier approached, waving his hand at Roy.

"Oh, it is Lance." Roy smiled, and waved back. "What's the matter? Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Master Roy, bandits!"

A sudden chill went down Roy's spine. With most of the guards and the knights gone to Araphen, there were few at the castle who could defend his father, and his father was ill.

"Is Lord Eliwood safe?!" Allen, despite his usually relaxed demeanor, seemed to jump in alarm.

"He's inside the citadel, defending against the bandits trying to scale the walls but… with him ill and so many of our soldiers missing…."

"Lance, is it? Is Lady Lilina safe?" Bors asked, trembling for fear that he would fail his liege lord in the rather simple task of defending a young woman.

"Ah… you're an Ironclad, then? Yes, she is safe, and she should be as long as she remains by Lord Eliwood's side. His stamina, though, his illness-"

"I should've accompanied Lilina…" Roy snarled, chiding himself for his lack of foresight.

"Lord Roy, regret won't solve anything! We must hurry to defend the castle!" Wolt said, impatience marking his body language and tone.

"Wolt's right, we ride at once!" Marcus said.

"… ! Wyverns!" Wolt shouted in alarm. He let loose an arrow at the lead wyvern.

Roy thought that wyvern looked vaguely familiar. He prepared for battle, nonetheless.

The green-armored Wyvern Knight raised a sword and simply knocked the arrow away with a flick. Roy thought that the profile of the rider was quite familiar, too. Another arrow soared towards the wyvern, but the rider slapped it away with the left gauntlet.

The Wyvern Knight descended at an alarming speed, and before anyone could react, hovered right next to Wolt, her sword inches from his neck.

With her free hand, the rider took off her helmet, shaking loose a cascade of golden hair and revealing green eyes that matched her armor. Roy realized that the bulk of her armor had concealed another rider on the back, and that she was wearing a Sacaen garb he saw most often on…

"Godmother?" Roy broke the silence. "_What are they doing here? They should be at Araphen._"

"Oh? Why hello, Roy!" Lyn beamed at the young man.

"Roy? Wow, you've grown quite a bit, haven't you? Though you're still a little short…" Alice said. Turning her attention back on Wolt, she said, "You might want to tell your retainer not to shoot at allies."

"Er… that's Wolt, aunt Alice."

"Oh, hmm, in that case, doubly so!" Alice lowered her sword.

"Hello Wolt!" Lyn said.

"Milady. Your Grace. Welcome to Pherae." Marcus bowed deeply.

Allen, Lance, and Wolt mimicked their commander. It was quite impressive, the way Marcus commanded their respect with such absolute authority.

The second wyvern arrived, revealing the rider, a young girl with silver hair, and a passenger, a girl around his own age, with dark green hair.

"Ah, Madelyn? Pearl? What are you all doing here?" Roy said.

Madelyn nodded regally while Pearl greeted them. "Hello Roy! Hello Lord Marcus! Hello Wolt! And… uh… umm… do I know you?"

"Godmother, what are you doing here?" Roy asked, as his retainers and Bors introduced themselves.

"Picking up your father, of course. Lycia has need of him, once more."

"If that is the case… you must help us, godmother!"

"Uh… help you do what, specifically?" Lyn said, uncomprehending.

"Bandits have besieged the castle, and we have no time to lose!"

"Oh, goodie!" Pearl yelled. "My first battle!"

"No!" everyone shouted in unison.

Pearl glared at everyone around her. "But you need me."

"Do not." Alice muttered.

"Auntie, do you know anyone who is better qualified than I am to command us in battle? Anyone with more knowledge about military tactics than I?" Alice was startled by the threatening amount of persuasion mixed with manipulation in Pearl's demeanor. Kayleth did say that there were no humans more adept at manipulation than prepubescent children. Thankfully, most prepubescent children did not have desires as exotic or outlandish as Pearl did.

"Well… no, but-"

"You were two years older than I am now when you first went to battle, and at the front lines, too. I'll be on Highwind, and I'll stay way out of range."

"Pearl, but you don't-"

"I know I'm young, mother… but please." Tears welled up in the girl's eyes. "I can't stay back and worry myself sick anymore. I can't be useless… we're going to war soon, and I will help my family and friends get through it alive."

Nobody had a counterargument to that, especially when such an adorable child was crying in the most crestfallen and heartbreaking manner imaginable. Roy thought that her tears could be weaponized. He knew well enough that the tears would disappear in moments when she got what she wanted, but still he could not speak out against her. During her frequent stays at Pherae and Ostia, Roy had gotten to know the girl quite well. She was the most selfish, yet selfless, most manipulative, yet well-meaning, most attention-seeking, yet loving person he had ever met. She was a whirlpool of contradictions and oxymorons.

"…Alright." Lyn growled. "But far out of sight, and I'll be with you at all times."

Pearl smiled, bringing her crying under control within moments, "Really?" Roy strongly suspected that she had learned how to produce tears at a moment's notice and that she knew the effect her tears would have on the people standing before her.

"… Yes, if your mother says so." Alice sighed. Madelyn shrugged.

"Er… nobody cares for my opinion on the matter?" Roy asked hopefully.

Pearl glanced around. "Nobody who matters. Now, uh… auntie, go defend Lord Eliwood's ramparts. You're our most mobile unit. Sir Marcus, mother, you're reserves. As for the rest of you… Sir Allen, is it? Carry Sir Bors around and drop him off whenever we're engaged in combat. The knights will form a wall in front of Roy and Maddie. They're bandits, right? Everyone, draw swords. Mother, support them with your bow, but only when it seems necessary."

"Pearl, you know I can kill them all myself." Lyn looked affronted.

"Yes, mother. However, the Bernese army will not be such easy prey. I want Roy, his retainers, and my sister to get some valuable experience without significant risk to their lives. It's the same strategy father used back during the war against the Black Fang." Pearl explained. Roy was appalled at her reasonableness. She was usually beyond reason, completely so.

"_When had she learned so much? Or am I going insane, to trust the battle to a twelve year old?_"

At least Aunt Alice would soon be at his father's side. It would take scores of bandits to overwhelm Alice. Lilina and his father were in good hands.

As for the rest… Roy reasoned that Pearl had his godfather's blood and tutelage. Even if Pearl were a buffoon, they couldn't possibly lose, for Marcus was the best Paladin Pherae produced in a century, and his godmother was an extraordinary Swordmaster as well as a decent Sniper. Madelyn, if he remembered correctly, was a student of two Trueblades as well as godmother.

Roy brought himself back to reality as they crashed in to the first line of bandits.

His two cavaliers promptly trampled and stabbed two bandits. Sir Bors, however, being a lance-wielder, missed. Roy surged forward with his rapier to mend the breach in their lines.

The bandit came at him, all unrestrained desperation and fury. He jumped back to avoid the horizontal slash that threatened to cleave him.

Madelyn took advantage of the opening and her sword took him by the shoulder. Wolt managed to send an arrow into his chest. Roy granted the bandit mercy with a quick jab through his heart.

Circling lazily above the fight, Pearl shouted more orders. "Well done! Ten bandits are approaching, though, and I am a little worried about their numbers…. Mother, kill two of them, please. Rest of you, same method but with a little more caution. Lord Marcus, please stay closer to the front line."

Being quite a ways above the battlefield, no one could see Pearl's expression of horror at the sight of death. She had heard many tales of the battlefield, but seeing it for oneself was altogether a different experience.

Two bandits died in quick succession, clutching their throats where arrows appeared.

"Forward!" Roy shouted.

Again, the front line of heavy armor clashed against the unarmored forms of the bandits. Lacking in coordination, there was little the bandits could do against the initial momentum and devastating charge of the cavaliers. Three were slain instantly, and a fourth found Sir Bors' lance through his stomach.

The bandits in the second wave tried to take advantage of the Pheraens' distraction, but found their axes to be of little use against Sir Bors' armor, and the two cavaliers recovered in time to get back in guard position. Roy slipped through the gap between Allen and Bors to stab one of the bandits in the stomach. As he retreated back into formation, he found that Madelyn was, likewise, successful.

Three arrows took care of another bandit while Marcus almost lazily chopped off the remaining bandit's head. The grizzled veteran of decades flicked off his sword, almost in contempt, and resumed his position behind Roy.

The group looked up for more orders.

Pearl was surveying the castle with a gigantic spyglass that spoke volumes about her own lack of physical growth. She looked more like a ten year old than a twelve year old. Roy remembered that Pearl had been to death's door when she was six, forcing her father to use an Angelic Robe at an age lower than usually recommended to avoid the same fate as his second child; it resulted in stunted physical growth, but at least she lived.

"Um… it seems like there's only one left."

"One? They decided to scale the citadel with one?!" Marcus asked. He was appalled by the incredible stupidity the bandits seemed to display.

"Of course not, Sir Marcus, I see twelve corpses around the castle walls I can only assume to be those of bandits. My, my… it seems like my Lady aunt killed them all."

"We must hurry, then." Marcus said. "I want the last bandit."

Pearl considered for a moment. She had known him long enough to know it was part injured pride and part fear for Roy. Bandit leaders were usually leaders because they were the best fighters in their bands. While she would usually indulge him, she had to think of long term prospects. In war, the rules changed. "Nah. Lord Marcus, take Roy with you and drop him in front of the gates, where the bandit is. I'm certain the advantage in the weapons triangle theorem will empower Roy enough to defeat him. Only help him if you think it's absolutely necessary."

Marcus struggled for a moment, but bowed his head eventually. "Thy will be done, my Lady."

Roy leapt on the back of Marcus's horse, and the two of them set out to kill the last bandit of the day.

As they approached the gate, Roy noticed that Pearl did not mention anything about the size of this hulking mass of brute force.

"Be calm, Roy." Marcus said. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Match your strength to his weakness, and that is speed. Dart in, dart out. You remember the lessons."

"Ah… of course, Marcus." Roy recalled the numerous sparring sessions and arms training he received. More importantly, Roy remembered the bruises and scars from the training sessions; his godfather and Marcus believed strongly in the principle of 'the more bruising in training, the less bleeding in battle. The more bleeding in training, the less dying in battle'. He got off the horse, and walked towards the bandit slowly.

"Ha! You think a little lordling can defeat me, Damas the Mighty?!"

Roy did not bother to respond, and feinted to the left. The bandit moved accordingly, coming forth with a diagonal blow. Roy sidestepped the blow and moved further to the left, and his first blow punctured the bandit's right lung.

The bandit coughed up blood, and did not seem to have the presence of mind to keep his guard up. Another jab, this time to the throat, left him gurgling and writhing on the ground.

Roy remembered Marcus and Hector's lecture about mercy, and swiftly plunged his rapier into the bandit's forehead, ending his life instantly.

"Excellent performance, Roy." He found Pearl beaming at him, and the rest of the little band raising their fists in triumph.

"Let's see if father and Lilina are alright, shall we?"

* * *

"Eliwood! Lilina!"

"Hello, Lyn."

"Hello, godmother."

Eliwood and Lilina were found to be in the throne room. Roy was startled by his father's features, though.

"Father, Lilina! Thank goodness you're alright. Father, you look sicker than was suggested in your letter."

"Yes… I'm afraid that I won't be able to join the battle against Bern."

"What?! You're Lycia's greatest knight, Eliwood, we need you!" Lyn said.

"I'm sorry, Lyn, but my conditions are worse than I expected. I'm afraid I won't be able to show the veneer of strength that our troops need. They will see a sick, middle aged man… I would be a hindrance to everyone else."

"Then… am I to be Pherae's representative in this war, father?"

Eliwood gave his son a wan smile. "I'm sorry I can't be of more use to you. I have fits whenever I travel. I can't even go to the village to the north, for fear of my health."

"Father…."

"Hello, uncle Eliwood!" Pearl said, running across the hall to give him a hug.

"Hello, Lord Eliwood, I hope we find you well." Madelyn curtsied. "The bandits have been taken care of. Your remaining knights are ready to escort you to the field."

Eliwood chuckled, but also had a coughing fit. Roy saw a shade of red glistening on his father's hand.

"Father!"

"Daijobu?" Pearl said, switching back to Sacaen dialect.

"Aha… whew… yes. The battle seems to have taxed my strength, however."

"Lord Eliwood…" Alice said, holding out a wineskin.

"Thank you, Alice. Heh… this is good wine, Alice."

"The last of my finest vintage. A pity we could not use it for a more celebratory occasion." Alice blushed, turning away from Eliwood. Lyn giggled, as she knew Eliwood was her first crush.

"As I was saying… I won't be able to join you at Araphen. Roy, you are to take over for me and lead Pherae's forces in battle. Submit yourself to the command structure of the Lycian Alliance army. The ancient vows of mutual protection must be fulfilled."

"Yes, father."

"I didn't want to send you because you were still studying, but… under the circumstances…."

"I understand, father."

"Lord Eliwood, I'll accompany Roy as well!" Lilina said. "My father is in charge of the main Lycian forces. I can use my magic to help Roy…."

Roy would have been glad to have his childhood friend by his side, but worried for her. Lilina was, for all intents and purposes, the princess of Lycia. There was little chance that she could endure the rigors of the military.

Fortunately her offer was shot down by so many people, whose opinions actually mattered, that he didn't have to say a word. Godfather had taught him that letting others move according to one's own desires without having to do anything was to be savored, for such opportunities did not come often in life.

"Unacceptable." Lyn said. "Whatever would I tell Florina in the next life if I let any harm come to you?"

"Preposterous! Lilina, you're the princess of Ostia, and one of the ruling family must always be at Ostia. You have to ease the tension of the commoners and present a strong face so as to support your father." Alice shook her head emphatically.

"The height of lunacy! Indeed, it would be unthinkable to risk the princess and Marquess of Ostia in one battle." Marcus nodded, supporting the Duchess.

"No, Lilina. You must return to Ostia, and immediately, too. I have arranged for a small merchant caravan headed to Ostia to take you along." Eliwood said, more gently than the others.

Roy thought he saw Pearl snicker at the overwhelming verbal assault that flattened Lilina's proposal. The others in the room merely nodded their assent at the assessment of their ruler.

"Yes, milord…" Lilina's expression conveyed such disappointment that Roy felt a twinge of guilt at being so relieved that Lilina wasn't coming. But Roy felt bad enough that he had allowed Pearl on the battlefield. He was lucky Madelyn was a different case, because… she was Madelyn, and it struck him each time he met her how much strength ran through her veins. Unshakeable determination and will from her father. Martial prowess, compassion, and justice tempered by mercy from her mother. She was a warrior born, and Roy knew for a fact that she had already taken part in scores of battles.

Perhaps he felt so about Lilina because he knew her longest. Roy would die before he saw Lilina get hurt. He was happiest when he laughed together with Lilina. He abhorred their separation whenever he came back to Pherae. Yes, it would be best for Lilina to stay in Ostia, for his sake if not for hers.

"Roy, you will leave tomorrow, accompanied by Merlinus, to meet up with a mercenary company I hired at the Bernese border."

Roy snapped his attention back to the present, and answered, "Yes, father, thank you for everything."

"You'll be fine, son." Eliwood smiled. "You are the next Marquess of Pherae, after all. You'll fight with my comrades, the finest group of warriors Elibe has seen in centuries, dragonslayers all. Hector and Lyn can easily defeat Zephiel in a duel. You'll be under the command of Kayleth, the finest tactician Elibe has, perhaps, ever seen. I know we'll win.

"We will win, father, because we must win."

"Oh? It seems little Roy has grown, and more than just physically." Alice ruffled his hair, and Roy fought desperately to struggle out of her reach.

* * *

A victory celebration was held in the form of a banquet. The maids and the servants were eager to repay the victors who saved them from the terror they had felt mere hours ago.

The court musicians played celebratory music as befitting of the mood, and Alice joined them, ushering the pianist away. Madelyn accompanied her aunt, cleaning and assembling her flute. The Lord of the castle laughed and went about his duties as host; his illness seemed to have been forgotten.

At Pearl's insistence that the host was supposed to entertain the guests, Roy was manipulated into dancing with Lilina… five times. He had no idea how this came to pass, for he was an amateur dancer at best, and he kept stepping on Lilina's feet; this happened quite often, and was accompanied by a flurry of apologies which Lilina accepted with good grace. Once Pearl was no longer as young and childishly adorable enough to get away with everything, Roy vowed that there would be sweet revenge.

Eliwood and Lyn shared a great many laughs together at the sight of the two dancers. The Marquess of Pherae also learned much of the situation at Araphen in between the laughter, but refused to let the grim news spoil the mood of the feast.

Roy could have sworn that Alice picked songs with slower pace when he was forced to dance. Why it was that his godfather's family always picked on him first, he would never know. He sat back down on his seat to his father's right with a sigh of relief.

On Lilina's part, she was rather sad that Roy did not dance more. She knew he was a… mediocre dancer, for her feet bore evidence of that, but she enjoyed having him all to herself, if only for a few moments. She sat down next to Roy, after gratefully patting Pearl's head. The little schemer didn't seem to know of her gratitude, but beamed at Lilina nonetheless. She took leave of the table, and joined her sibling, ocarina in hand.

One could scarcely imagine that Pherae was at war.

"Enjoyed the dance, Lilina?" Lyn asked, and Lilina panicked at her tone. "_Could it be that she sensed something?_"

"Y-yes."

Lyn saw that her best friend's trait definitely carried on in her daughter, though not nearly as severely. Lilina no doubt was trying to hide her feelings, but Lyn had years of practice in interpreting Florina's stutters. A predatory grin came across her face, and Lilina flinched.

Turning to face Roy, Lyn asked, "So, tell me about your time in Ostia, Roy. Any young maiden who caught your eyes?"

Roy flushed in embarrassment. No doubt he would hear no end of it from his father if he did not answer in a clear negative.

"No, godmother, not a one."

"Really? I always thought the Ostian Court held many fine and beautiful ladies… its princess, for one."

Lilina turned a deep shade of red. "Thank you, godmother."

Eliwood raised an eyebrow, chuckling. His glance told Lyn to stop harassing the children so.

Lyn decided to humor him.

Three people sat near the fire in Marquess Pherae's office.

"Your illness… it's more serious than you let on, isn't it?" Alice asked, her heart pounding in fear.

"… Yes. You know I would go to Araphen, if only I could survive the journey."

Alice burst into fresh tears while Lyn patted her head, which was buried in her chest, humming soothing sounds.

"You remember the Archsage's last words?"

"Of course, Lyn, and that's another reason why I know we'll be victorious."

"I thought the threat would come after our lifetime, but… it really seems as though fate really does not like us."

"No, Lyn. If our lives are cursed lives, then I don't know a single person whose life isn't cursed. We've met extraordinary companions, and together we stopped the destruction of the world as we know it."

"Still… I'm tired of all the battles, Eliwood. I do hope this war doesn't last long. Kayleth doesn't show it, but he's tearing himself apart with guilt."

Eliwood sighed. "No matter what his emotional state is, though… Kayleth always delivers us victory."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that. After all, I'll be there. Alice will be there. Most of our comrades will be there." Lyn said, a wide grin adorning her face.

"Woe betide anyone who stands against such might." Eliwood smiled back. "Again, I'm truly sorry that I can't join you."

"It's alright. Your swordsmanship does leave much to be desired in any case."

"Such harsh words." Eliwood laughed. "But before you go…."

"Yes." Alice said, forcing the tears back. "With my own life, if need be."

* * *

Roy and Lilina sat on the balcony of the guestroom. Under the moonlit skies, they watched the east,

Roy was a little uncomfortable of the physical distance, the lack thereof, and was a little surprised for it. Lilina, after all, was his closest friend and he hers.

Lilina seemed to pay no mind, which was a relief. At Ostia, it would take her days to receive the news of the upcoming battle. She had many people precious to her heart defending Araphen, and the worry may very well drive her mad.

Better that than risking death, though.

"Do you think we'll win, Roy?"

Roy couldn't for the life of him imagine why everyone seemed to be asking him that question these days. Was it not obvious?

"Of course, Lilina. Our army has dragonslayers. Theirs has wyverns, at best, and they are poor imitations of their cousins. Don't worry so much."

"But… it's Bern. They have nearly three times the numbers we have. True, quite a few of them went to Ilia and Sacae, but I can't suppress the feeling that something is not right. Their General Murdock and King Zephiel are supposed to be fiercesome warriors."

Roy sighed. He hoped the war would end quickly, if only to see Lilina free of this fear. "Godfather taught me that in battle it is the use of one's resources that matters more than the actual possession of those resources. The Red Baron himself commands our forces. As to Murdock and Zephiel, we have the likes of Sir Oswin, Matthew, Sir Sain, Sir Lowen, Sir Marcus, our Lady godmother, aunt Alice, and most of all, your father. You've never seen your father fight for real, have you? Trust me when I say that none, not even a hundred dragons, can stand before his might. He is a god of war."

Lilina looked a little more relieved. "Right. Godfather will come up with some clever plan. Then, my father will drive the Bernese army out of Lycia. Even if he gets injured, Lady Serra will be there. Yes… everything will be alright." Roy smiled, watching Lilina put herself under her own hypnosis. He loved nothing more than Lilina's look of contentment.

"Say, Roy?"

"Ah, yes, Lilina?"

"Promise me you'll stay safe?"

"Of course, Lilina." Roy didn't think Lilina was too convinced. Truth be told, he wasn't that convinced, either. He had seen only three battles, after all, and against lowly bandits at that.

"Promise me, Roy." Lilina took his hands in her own, and Roy could not help but be shocked by her boldness.

Sunlight, faint but powerful, dispelled the darkness and Roy turned his head eastwards, seeing the sun rise from behind the mountains.

Looking back upon Lilina, he found a precious person that he had known since they were children. She had cared for him when he was sick. She brought him water when he finished his sparring sessions. She lent him her notes in class. Lilina ate with him, breathed with him, danced with him, played with him… she was one of the main reasons Roy knew he was not alone in this world. She was so beautiful and compassionate. Lilina deserved a world of peace.

His godfather had once taught him human psychology, that humans were social animals, that those who did not fear loneliness were not human, that it was together humanity was strong: strong enough to drive the dragons out of Elibe, their world. The fear of loneliness gave man love, and thus the power of hate, hate for the ones who would dare to harm those who shielded them from loneliness.

Roy drew his rapier, and plunged it downwards with both hands. He knelt on one knee, and bowed his head.

"I am Roy, son of Marquess Pherae. Hear me now, lady Lilina, princess of Ostia, as I ride ahead to fulfill my obligations as your loyal subject, childhood friend, and peer of the realm. I vow, in the name of God and the Saint, that I will repel our foes' advance, and return to you unharmed; I do so swear, for I feel that… for the first time, I live for someone else. I want to protect something, something precious to me, something that I never want to lose again. May the God of our ancestors grant me the strength to uphold this vow, though I am unworthy."

There was a pregnant silence, and Roy risked a glance at Lilina's face. She was obviously embarrassed, but seemed to be on the verge of saying something.

"Very w-well, Lord Roy. On this green earth, I am Lilina, daughter of Marquess Ostia, and I accept your vow. I wish you good fortune in your battles, and that you remember that one beacon of light can dispel a sea of darkness. May the God of the Eight Legends bless you in your endeavors." Hesitantly, torn between her decisions, she bestowed a kiss on Roy's cheek.

Roy thought his cheek would melt, such was the heat that came from her lips.

Lilina pushed him down, and lay next to him, her head against his heart.

"Lilina…"

"Shh… just until you leave, Roy. Only until you leave."

If that was what Roy had to do to help Lilina, he'd do it.


	3. Princess Bern

"Again, Roy!" Lyn barked.

"But-"

The Mani Katti descended on him again, and Roy had to roll out of the way lest he bleed more than he already had.

One of his godfather's favored army policies was to train using real weapons, something about 'the more bruising in training, the less bleeding in war. The more blood in training, the less dying in war.'

That was easy for godfather to say, having no sparring partner of his own; but Roy's sparring partner was the Storm of Swords, and he, his body if not his mind, very much feared for his life.

When he pointed that out, Pearl merely shrugged and said that 'nothing worthwhile comes easily. Half effort doesn't produce half results. It produces none. Work, continuous and hard, is the only way to accomplish results that last. Roy, you're not telling me you want to put in half effort?'

Marcus, Lance, Bors, Wolt, and Madelyn nodded vigorously. Wolt seemed to have found himself a new idol, to be venerated just as Marcus was venerated. Only Allen shared his Lord's point of view.

None of them knew how little of an effort Pearl spent on activities that didn't hold her interest, namely none whatsoever. He had once told Wolt about this but he was already too far gone, going as far as to demand that he apologize for slandering Lady Pearl. Justice really did not exist.

At least Allen, Lance, Bors, Wolt, and Madelyn were assigned to Marcus and Alice. They outnumbered their instructors more than two to one. They were in no danger of dying. Roy was afraid that was not the case for himself.

"Pay attention, Roy!"

By instinct, Roy jumped back. He then went on the offensive, thrusting with his sword.

Lyn sidestepped almost lazily, and tapped Roy on the shoulder with her blade. "You're too open to counterattacks. Please consider not only what you're going to do, but also what your enemy's going to do."

There was a loud thwack, and Roy rubbed his head. Pearl was a practitioner of 'negative reinforcement,' and swooped down from where she was watching them to hit the ones who made mistakes with a comically large wooden sword.

It was not so comical when delivered by the momentum of a wyvern. Roy also thought Pearl took special pleasure in hitting him.

Not that he could prove anything, he sighed. Wolt seemed to be envious, seeing Pearl's admonishments as good and therapeutic.

"Mm… I think you've had enough training with me today."

"Thank you for your guidance, godmother."

"You'll get better. You're Eliwood's son, after all."

"He will?" Pearl asked dubiously, though she was of the school that believed in encouraging soldiers and giving them confidence. "In time for the war? Enough to make a difference?"

"Of course, dear." Lyn took the proffered water bottle her daughter held out for her. "I'm going to go spar with Sir Marcus."

"If you say so." Pearl shrugged. "In the meantime, please go train with Sir Allen and Sir Lance, Roy. It wouldn't do to have you killed in one unexpected cavalry charge."

"Isn't it the tactician's job to avoid an unexpected cavalry charge?" Roy raised an eyebrow.

"I'm twelve years old, dolt, I have limits. Tacticians can plan for many contingencies and eventualities, but it's up to lowly grunts, like you, to survive our plans," Pearl sniffed. "Granted, I don't think you're quite as lowly as a pawn… maybe a Knight."

"I'm flattered." Roy rolled his eyes. "Out of curiosity, who qualifies as queens or warlords?"

"In this war? Mother, auntie, Sir Oswin, Sir Marcus, and a few others. I suppose uncle Hector is technically the king. Bern does have many more pieces, though…. But in the end, it doesn't matter how many more pieces Bern has."

"It doesn't?"

"My father is the player, after all, and father never lost, nor will he ever lose."

Pearl delivered the comment with such calm and surety that Roy couldn't help but believe it himself. Not a trace of doubt tainted her voice.

Would that he were granted such unshakeable faith.

"Say… nii-chan."

"Uh… yes?"

"What did Lilina nee-chan's lips feel like?"

Roy's jaws dropped to the ground, and an impish smile graced the questioner's face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes? What was that business about 'return to you unharmed', then? No idea what that is either?" Pearl's grin widened as she purred.

"H-how do you-"

"I was watching, of course, from the roof of the tower." Pearl looked like a general who just defeated ten thousand to one odds. "Personally, I think nee-chan's too good for you, but the heart wants what it wants."

Pearl started pouting, "Although, given how long you stayed at her side, I thought you'd give into your animalistic impulse and-"

Roy knew he had to throw that particular conversation off track. "What are you, to be on the roof, that's dangerous; that's dangerous, you're not a cat!"

"Huh… a cat. I think that'll be a good second name, when I earn it. The Silver Cat, to bring fortune to my minions," said Pearl, twirling her snow-white hair. It was quite obvious what she thought of the rest of humanity: mice, to be tended as a shepherd might tend his flock.

Roy palmed his face. This was spinning out of control. "Pearl, have you mentioned this to anyone else?"

"No. But good idea, nii-chan."

Roy moved hurriedly to negotiate. "What would it take for me for you to keep that a secret?"

"Uh… I don't know?" Pearl held a finger to her mouth and nibbled on her nails.

"You've got to want something?!"

"Hmm… I'll ask you for it later." Pearl shrugged.

"So… what now?"

"Pinky swear, of course!" Pearl bubbled over with excitement.

The little girl locked her right pinky with Roy's, and said "Yubikiri genman, uso tsuitara hari senbon nomasu, yubi kitta."

"Er… what was that?"

"A pinky pledge!" Pearl said, confused.

"So what does it mean?" Roy asked, exasperated.

"Pinky pledge: if you're lying, I'll make you drink a thousand needles." Pearl explained, still smiling.

"… Now I think I understand what they mean when they say that Sacaens never lie."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that, nii-chan. Sacaens are entitled to cut off the fingers of people who lied to them. In fact, the first part of the pledge makes it pretty clear what the terms are."

"… Never mind. So it's not so much that Sacaens don't lie so much as they can't lie. Anyhow, do we have a deal?"

"Depends on whether you give me what I want, but sure. Hmm… how about a roast duck, soft bed, and a warm bath tomorrow, for starters?"

"Er… if the inn's open, and the price isn't too high. And what do you mean by starters?!"

Pearl turned around, and started walking in Lyn's direction. "Mama!" It was the kind of voice three year old babies reserved for the most distressful situations; the same voice that had his godfather eat out of her hand, and his godfather was the most difficult person to manipulate in all of Elibe.

"Argh! Alright, yes, definitely!" Roy shouted as he saw the cry take its intended effect on his godmother.

Pearl must have found his answer satisfactory because she merely rushed into her mother's embrace and chatted animatedly about nothing of importance. Roy sighed in relief as the crisis was averted.

* * *

"Keep digging, you maggots! You lowlife scum, unworthy of licking the dirt off my boots! Imagine what'll happen to your families if the Bernese smash through these works! Your hatred will lend you strength! If it doesn't, well, the Bernese soldiers will have their way with your wives, sisters, daughters, and mothers! So work like you lowborn scum are meant to!"

Kayleth was overseeing the network of trenches and makeshift wooden fortifications that was to be the first line of defense against the Bernese. Some of the keystone bunkers and towers even had artillery and magical circles.

Peasants and soldiers alike toiled away under the warmth of the spring sun.

"Ever the slave driver, eh, Kayleth?"

"We will win, Matthew. I will set things right if I have to give my other eye to do it."

"A good deal of our western forces have finally arrived, Kayleth. Now we have about thirteen Legions. All of Lycia's Ordos Militant are here as well. You'll also be pleased to note all of our noted knights are here, with the obvious exception of the two, that is."

"Yes, yes." Kayleth rolled his eyes. "I know that Eliwood and Marcus aren't here. The full might of Ostia, hmm? All seven of your Iron Lords? What of Laus?"

Matthew's eyes narrowed. "Unfortunately, the troops holding the Etrurian border have yet to return. The honorable Marquess Laus has yet to answer our call. Are you sure you want to leave him be, Kayleth?"

"We'll have plenty of time to, ah, erase Lord Eliwood's folly after we correct mine."

"For failing to answer the Call?"

"No. Simply for his absence. To fight and die for one's subjects is a noble's raison d'être. We rule because we are the first to bleed. We rule because we are ready to bleed, and have been trained to bleed. We have our privileges because we sell a skill that commoners sorely lack, leadership. For Marquess Laus to not be here to fight his subjects' foes is to forfeit his claim to life and title."

"As you will, Lord. Anyhow, our forces now number nearly thirteen Legions."

"Excluding Legio XVI?"

"That is so."

"That's enough."

"Enough for nearly twenty and five Legions, at the least?"

"That's assuming they sent the bare minimum to deal with Sacae and Ilia, but yes. It all depends on our opening gambit, both of them."

"They'll never see either of them coming, Kayleth. Always the unexpected, huh?" Hector said."

"Yes… looking upon our static defenses, they'll expect us to engage them in a war of attrition. Fools. I have no intention of leaving this battle to the capricious nature of melee combat. Operation Dreamland, Operation Shadow's Madness, and Operation Deep End, if successful, should see to a defeat they cannot possibly recover from. When the balance of forces is more or less eight legions against fifteen, I am willing to offer them what they expect. Unless I miss my guess entirely, however, Legio XVI should be enough to shatter their hopes. After all, it would take soldiers of Murdock or Zephiel's caliber to defeat any one of them, and Araphen has the second strongest walls in Lycia."

"I'll take care of that boy with daddy issues." Hector growled.

"I'm sure you will. Just give me a moment to speak with him before he is sent to the afterlife."

"What could you have to say to him?"

"Many, many things. It includes how I'll have his precious little sister passed around the entire camp, twice, and then sell her to a brothel where, after she outlives her usage, they'll sell her to the fisheries as whale bait."

"… You won't actually do that, right?"

Kayleth sighed. "My time with Lyn has softened me too much. Besides, I knew the Princess since she was in swaddling clothes. But even if that were not the case, I would never knowingly condone robbing one's freedom in such a manner."

A collective sigh of relief rose from those in the tactician's vicinity. One could never tell when Kayleth was joking or not.

That was a lie. For victory, Kayleth would let his troops rape and pillage to their hearts' content.

* * *

"… I'm getting sleepy."

It wasn't even the middle of the day, and Roy's tactician was whining about being sleepy. She made such pained sounds when someone tried to force her out of bed that only those inured to such sounds could wake her up, if at all.

"You told me you could sleep on your wyvern."

"Not when he flies or walks, baka nii chan."

"Uh… you know I'm not that good with Sacaen words, right?"

"Baka means idiot. Emphasis on the b."

"I'm pretty sure there was some kind of a treatise that godfather wrote. In it, it's mentioned that the tactician should always behave respectfully toward the commander in public."

Pearl glanced over her shoulders to look at the rest of the group. Her aunt and mother were snickering as though they had gone mad. Her sister was as stoic as usual. Wolt didn't seem to be sure what to make of this verbal assault against his Lord. Marcus and Merlinus seemed mildly amused, but refrained from laughing out loud. Allen, Lance, and Bors were too far back to hear anything.

"I think this is private enough… and have you forgotten about-"

"No! Of course I was behaving like a baka. You win!"

"Emphasis on the b. Repeat after me. 'Roy is a big baka'." Pearl's voice took on a singsong quality.

"Pearl, dear, what have you got hanging over Roy that he's completely powerless?" Lyn asked, a touch of curiosity and more of humor in her voice.

"Maybe he's still a boy." Pearl said. "Mm… I'll tell you later, oka-san."

"You swore you wouldn't!" Roy blushed. Madelyn could see from the exchange that it had something to do with Lilina. She regretted having mentioned their location to Pearl, but it was really the only way to get her chatterbox of a sister off her. Much like her father, Madelyn placed a healthy value on her own privacy and alone-time.

"It's impolite to use words from a dialect not many people know, Pearl," Alice said.

"Sumimasen, oba-san."

"Don't be cheeky, Pearl."

"Wakarimashita."

"How did Common ever produce such words, Marcus?" Roy asked.

"Hmm… I believe that historians theorize that people spoke different languages before they developed Common for the Scouring. Is that not so, your Grace?"

Alice shrugged. "Don't ask me. I only took up subjects that matter in running a Duchy."

"I think Lord Erk did mention something like that, Lord Marcus." Pearl answered in her aunt's stead. "It was imperative, for humanity, to be able to understand each other if they were to win against such naturally powerful creatures. Thus, Common was a compromise between the languages, and based heavily on Bernese and Etrurian dialects since they had the most inhabitants." Pearl caught the others staring in shock. "What?"

"Though we have no way of regaining the entire language, simple words and phrases were preserved due to the regularity with which they are used. The most popular rituals, songs, and poems were preserved, too. " Lyn added, for she was the only one in the group who could be considered to have had a more or less typical Sacaen childhood. Pearl and Madelyn spent too much time in Bulgar to lay claim to that.

"How do you know that, Pearl?" Roy was gaping at the little girl. It was easy to forget that she had received the best education in Elibe and that she was two years older than she actually looked.

"I know how to read, you illiterate baka." Now she was just being unfair, Roy thought. "If you must know, the 'God of the Eight Heroes' business was a similar thing. Brammimond believed none existed. Hanon believed in nature, as Sacaens still do. Athos thought that a deity existed, but didn't worship said deity, who was unworthy of veneration. Roland only believed in God because Elimine told him to. Hartmut shared the dragons' religious beliefs. The other two were busy trying to survive, and only agreed for the sake of unity. One God, one Realm, and one Language. Of course, after the Scouring, they noticed that the one Realm part didn't work particularly well."

"Anyhow, it is impolite to use a dialect that another within earshot cannot understand." Madelyn said.

"Hai, nee-chan."

There was a satisfying thwack, and Pearl bent her knees, hugging them while burying her head in them and dripping tears.

Despite how annoying Pearl could be, Roy had great reservations about hitting a little girl. Maybe there were different rules for the fairer sex. Might be a Sacaen thing. Then again, it might be both.

"Madelyn!" Lyn scolded her eldest daughter.

"Oops… I hit harder than I meant to."

Roy couldn't help but smirk that the little devil had been put down, for the time being at least.

As Pearl continued to look dejected and sad, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl. No attempts to appease the bratty, but insufferably adorable, princess succeeded. In the end, Roy had to ask Wolt to give up the last of the cheesecake that Rebecca had baked for him. Wolt was understandably disheartened, but Roy was confident that he would survive the experience of going a few days without his mother's cooking. Lyn and Merlinus were good cooks, but nobody could cook quite like how Rebecca could, not even Sir Lowen.

Thinking over the incident, Roy was also confident that he had been manipulated, again.

* * *

"Operation Dreamland was a resounding success, Kayleth!" Matthew burst into his quarters, followed by Oswin and Hector.

Kayleth opened his bleary eyes. "_Could they not see that he was exhausted?_ _Damned parasites want me to do everything._"

"… It's not even three in the morning. This isn't like the war against Nergal… we're not in our twenties anymore."

Matthew brushed off the comment. "We're not in our twenties anymore. We're in our teens!"

"Conservative estimates place enemy losses at two legions, Kayleth." Oswin said. "The more optimistic amongst us hope for four legions, but I don't think we were quite that fortunate.

"I see. Pass my compliments to your agents, Matthew, and to the Pegasus Knights in our service as well. I'm sure they're anxious to get back to Ilia, but remind them gently that they won't make it back in time, anyways."

"Yes... setting the fire to separate the vanguard legion from the rest was a brilliant maneuver, Kayleth. Without the support of the other legions, the Pegasus Knights were able to slaughter them in the confusion of the fire. The wind was relatively strong, too." Oswin said.

"If Operation Deep End is just as successful, we can tie them down in a long defensive war with reasonable expectations of victory. After all, we have the _Purity of Purpose_, and it's worth at least five of their pathetic battleships. Operation Bull Run must cost at least two legions. Operation Shadow's Madness should thin their numbers further. Our outer defenses should cost them at least three legions. When we lose the outer defenses, we can expect that the Darin Protocol will incapacitate at least two legions. One to one and a half ratio is a good ratio when the castle walls are this high and thick. Meanwhile, we'll wait for the Etrurians to step in to preserve the status quo."

"You think the Etrurians will come for us, Kayleth." Oswin said, a statement more than a question.

"I don't see why not. If there is one thing the Etrurian nobility love, it is the status quo. They wouldn't want Bern to grow too powerful. Erk said so, too, and he was Mage General."

"How do you think Sacae and Ilia are doing? We have yet to receive news." Hector said.

"Not enough data. But if they stick to my recommendations, they should be fine."

They heard a sound of clanking armor, and Kayleth rolled his eyes. "You clank around when you're standing? Really, Hector?"

"It's not me!"

Lowen burst into the room. "K-Kayleth!"

"What is it, Lowen? If it's about your emergency rations, I promise on my daughter's head that I didn't take them."

"It's not about that! The Bernese are here! They'll reach the outer fortifications in two days!"

Dead silence reined over Kayleth's room.

"If this is your idea of a joke, Lowen, it is not funny and you're going to die for it."

"It is no joke! Scouts report that the Bernese army is here, twenty and six legions of them!"

"Impossible. You expect me to believe that twenty six legions, after Operation Dreamland at that, took two days to cover distances that should take six days to cover? That's impossible!"

"Wait, Kayleth. The Pegasus Knights did report that there were no Wyvern Knight pursuers. Maybe they carried the common soldiers. Maybe they ditched all rations but what they need for three days." Matthew said.

"Even then, it should've taken more time, Matthew. Something isn't right." Kayleth looked at the map sprawled over his desk, and frowned. "They must've mustered all the horses in Bern for this… it's the only plausible explanation… and they don't have much in the way of supplies. Zephiel pulled the unexpected on me, again! Argh!" Kayleth screamed his frustration and hate.

"Your orders, Kayleth."

"…Operation Deep End is to be launched tomorrow. Nothing is changed… though I would've preferred your agents and the Pegasus Knights to have rested. Perhaps, with the hard marching pace, the Bernese army would be even more tired than to be expected and our plan might work better than we have reason to hope for. We strike as soon as they arrive," Kayleth started grinning. "They'll never expect us to sally."

"But, Eliwood isn't here yet." Hector said.

"To hell with him. We'll just tell the troops that they'll be here in two days. Lowen will lead the charge. Matthew, go make sure he will cut a suitably heroic and knightly figure. Besides, you're here, the noted knights of the realm are here, XVI is here, I'm here. There are enough ballistae to blot out the skies. It's a defense worthy of the Scouring. It'll be enough. Matthew, spread the news of our victory to our troops please, and tell them to hurry with the preparations.

* * *

"Merlinus, wherever is this infernal place? Are you entirely certain that this castle of yours exists? I bet it's a dark, dingy, and stinky castle. Does it-"

"I tell you, as I told you the last hundred times, that we're nearly there! We should be able to see the castle any minute now."

"… That's not very nice, Merlinus. Why don't you apologize?" It was obvious Pearl had been waiting for him to cross the line.

"Whew… forgive me, Lady Pearl." Merlinus said with gritted teeth.

Roy found, much to his surprise, that it was fairly entertaining when Pearl drove other people crazy. Now that she was familiar with his retainers and Sir Bors, she grilled them as relentlessly as she grilled Roy. It was almost as amusing to watch her sister, aunt, and mother put her in her place but she was rarely caught. All in all, Pearl's presence was now becoming somewhat tolerable.

"Ah… here we are!" Merlinus said. "Although it looks like they aren't here yet."

"Mercenaries, that we already paid for, are late?" Pearl was one of the least patient people he had ever met when the mood was on her.

"I'm sure they have a good reason, Pearl," Roy mollified her.

"Watch out!" Lyn shouted, drawing her sword and closing the gap to Roy's side. Roy looked around frantically, and had a second before a figure clad in white crashed into his armor.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I was in a hurry." A feminine voice said, and she looked to scurry away.

"Wait!" Roy said. He would not have rumors spread about how he hit a woman and left bruises. "Are you alright?"

Roy's deft hands maneuvered to take the hood off.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." The woman, a cleric, Roy assumed, stared at his face for a moment. "Pray tell, are you from Lycia?"

"Yes, I'm the son of Marquess Pherae."

"Then please, you must help me rescue my mistress!"

Alice arrived at Roy's side, glaring at the woman. "A Sister you may be, but we are under no obligation to you and yours. We **must** not do anything. Have a care with your tongue, woman, and explain your situation fully."

The cleric looked to Roy's side, clearly disturbed by the tone of the Wyvern Lord. "Ah!"

"Huh?" Alice looked at the cleric quizzically. "Aren't you… Ellen?"

"You know her, auntie?" Pearl asked rhetorically.

"Ah… Your Grace." The woman, Ellen, started trembling.

"Uh… she seems scared of you." Roy said.

"She would be. No doubt Zephiel spread some wild rumors about how I went mad one day and killed all of my retainers. She's the handmaiden of the sister to the Mad King!" Alice spat, and Fenrir launched forward to bring the cleric in lance-range. Roy thought he saw a glimpse of the madness in his godfather in the furious Duchess's eyes. "If she speaks of her mistress, that means Guinevere is here! We can capture Guinevere, and hold her hostage against her scheming brother! Or kill her, just to spite him! Where is your mistress, worm?!"

A lance tip resting against her throat, Ellen fell silent. She even closed her eyes, and something about the image was so pitiful that Roy gently pushed the lance away.

"There's got to be a more plausible explanation for this, Aunt Alice. Why would she ask her to help her mistress if she were on Zephiel's side?" reasoned Madelyn, though she kept her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"A trap, in all likelihood, I wouldn't put it past the snakes at Court." Lyn answered.

"… It is not."

"So you can speak. Well? Explain yourself!" Alice demanded, her right hand still clenched around her lance. Meanwhile, Madelyn whispered to her sister about the value of the Princess, who was said to be the only one the King had any love for. Pearl argued back that only the forces of evil took a Princess as hostage, causing Madelyn to clutch her forehead in mild frustration. She took some time to couch the arguments in terms that Pearl would understand and agree with.

"Don't you find it odd that the Princess of Bern would come here? Not even with the main army, but here, Your Grace?" Ellen said.

"… Go on."

"She came here in the hopes of finding a Lycian representative who can help bring about a peaceful solution to this matter. The Princess believes that her brother may have gone insane."

"Of course he's gone insane. Anyone can see that! I see our clerics are gifted with godlike powers of deduction," snorted Alice. "And there's only one thing to do to a mad dog; you put it out of its misery."

"Nonetheless, milady insists. However, in the course of her journey, some corrupt nobles took her hostage, and plan to sell her to the highest bidder. They rest in the castle beyond the mountain there."

"Hmm…. Then perhaps your mistress has nothing to do with this invasion?" Alice allowed.

"Nevertheless, auntie, it remains a fact that she could prove to be a valuable bargaining chip for us. She can rally the Bernese people who want peace to our cause. If what you said of the King's affection for his sister is true, we can use her as a hostage against him. Even better, we can get her into a forced marriage with, say, Roy before we do that." Pearl said.

"Child… children should not say such things." Ellen said. Roy agreed. It was disturbing to hear such words out of a child's mouth.

"I'm not a child. I'm Pearl, and I'm twelve years old!" An indignant and shrill voice shouted. "And I'll toss you in a dungeon if you say that again!"

There was a loud smack, and Pearl grasped her buttocks, crying. It was readily obvious to Roy by now that she could call upon her tears at any time.

"Mother!" Madelyn said.

"Pearl, you can tell us what to do in battle, and that's until we get back to your father by the way, but you will keep your opinions about these matters to yourself. Really, I thought I told you that you were not to read your father's works until you're much older," Lyn said.

The tone made it quite clear that anything less than complete acquiescence and obedience would not end well for the little girl. Everyone in the immediate vicinity of the sheer level of… intent to cause pain, shivered.

Pearl sulked in the background, seeking comfort in her wyvern.

"Sister Ellen?" Roy said.

"Yes?"

"We will rescue your Princess. No harm shall come to her, as long as she does not offer any harm to us."

"Thank you…."

"We will?" Pearl sounded relieved. The Princess was one of her favored toys and it would not do to have someone take her away. Her sister made a logical case for keeping the Princess hostage, but in the end taking the Princess hostage wasn't a plan that held her interest.

"Now stay back. It wouldn't do to have you get hurt."

"It's alright, Lord. I am a cleric, after all. I can be of some use in rescuing my mistress."

"Huh… so we're getting a healer? Excellent." Pearl said, her stinging butt forgotten.

"Incoming hostiles! But there's a group of other… people, facing the reds. Lyn, Madelyn, kill them!" Alice shouted from above, wagging her fingers at some axemen.

"Madelyn, ikuzo." Lyn beckoned her eldest daughter. Four axemen charged at them.

Three were cut down in a blur of cold steel and fluttering blue dress. Limbs were hacked off, hearts were stabbed, and heads were beheaded. The other went down as Madelyn parried at an angle, and then drove her sword tip-first through the man's gullet.

The armored knight and two soldiers died far more messily as a Wyvern Lord crashed into them and hacked them apart. The ancestral sword of Winterfell crashed into the helmet of the armored knight, the momentum of the wyvern and the throw of the rider lending it the power to tear the head off. Alice's lance swung around to carve a soldier in half.

"… Eww." Pearl said, watching Fenrir tear off an arm. She noticed Roy standing next to her as she turned around. "Uh… I'm still tactician, right?"

"Do you see any other tacticians?" Roy shrugged, watching the carnage with a morbid fascination. Fenrir spat out the limp form of its last victim, and roared in victory. Alice issued a challenge to the two remaining soldiers, who seemed to have gotten the hint when they saw her slaughter four of their comrades.

"Right… everyone, form up, please!" Pearl blew on a small whistle that she drew from a pouch at her side.

As they finished putting their armor on, the knights gathered around Pearl. Sir Bors was the last to be armored, of course, needing the help of three or four people.

"While I go over battle formation, Aunt Alice, would you please take Roy over there to meet the group of soldiers who're fighting the reds?" Everyone seemed to take well to the new nickname Pearl bestowed on the Bernese.

"Hop on, Roy, we can't keep them fighting by themselves!" Such was the enthusiasm in his aunt's voice that Roy didn't even pause to think about the possibility of a fall.

As Fenrir took off, Roy gulped and thought that this could potentially be a fatal idea. He hugged on to Alice tightly.

Alice said something, probably a complaint, but Roy couldn't hear what she said.

"_That wasn't my fault, right?_"

A Pegasus Knight came upon them, and Alice slowed.

The rider was so, very, tragically, young. She could have been thirteen, and Roy would not be surprised.

"Are you Roy of Pherae?!" The girl screamed, probably a precaution against not being heard.

"Yes, I am!"

"I'm Thany! We're the mercenaries you hired! I'll take you to our leader now, follow me!"

The two fliers arrived at a narrow pass, where two axemen and a swordsman were standing guard in sentry posts over the pile of bodies that lay before them. The three of them had apparently killed nearly a dozen Bernese soldiers.

One of the men had scars all over his face… and his body, too. Alice blushed at the sight of the half-naked man.

"You're Roy?" A calm and warm voice asked. It was as though he wasn't fighting for his life just a few minutes ago.

"Yes, I am. You're Dieck?"

"Yes. I'm sorry we were late. We were… understandably delayed."

"I can see that." Alice snapped. "For God's sake, man, get some clothes on!"

Dieck shrugged. "If my employer says I must, I will, but who are you? I ordered Thany to be on the lookout for Lord Roy, but not a wyvern rider. What's a young, and pretty, lass like you doing here? Aren't we supposed to fight Bern?"

Roy saw steam coming out of Alice's ears, her face flushed. Now that Dieck mentioned it, Roy couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. He hadn't really considered this before, seeing as their Houses considered each other as good as blood-relations with the exception of his godfather, but Alice was deemed to be one of the most beautiful Ladies in the Bernese Court.

Roy's thoughts strayed to Lyn and Madelyn, who were beautiful in an otherworldly manner. It must be their mixed blood, he reasoned. Stopping his line of thought, Roy now wished Dieck had not said that, and tried desperately to drop the subject matter in its entirety.

"I'm Alice, Duchess of Winterfell, and you, **peasant**, are in the employ of my nephew! Call me a lass again and I'll feed you the part that makes you a man!" Alice screeched in fury.

Dieck flinched, and bowed deeply. "Woah… no need for that, your Grace. I just wasn't sure whether you were fighting for Bern or not. You're the Hawk? Wait a minute, aren't you one of King Zephiel's most loyal subjects? We're fighting Bern, right? Now I'm really confused."

Roy was rather impressed that this man would survive the experience of calling Alice a lass. As far as he knew, only his godfather and father got away with that. Even Lord Hector dared not say such a thing. Dieck was probably acting confused to throw the enraged Wyvern Lord off balance. After all, if half the rumors about her prowess in battle were true, Dieck had to know that he would last less than a minute against her.

He wondered when he would ever get away with making fun of Alice. Roy clearly remembered the first, and last, occasion in which he made fun of her. He lost his senses in most of his muscle groups for the rest of the day. He was twelve. No doubt if he tried now, his entire body would be paralyzed… for the rest of his life.

"Yes, we're fighting Bern. My Lady aunt has escaped to wage war against the King, who we believe has gone mad."

Alice threw a bundle at Dieck.

"Er… what's this?"

"It's a disguise I used to get out of my castle. It should fit even a… ahem, well musc-, er… man, yes, man, such as yourself."

Dieck raised an eyebrow at the fine make of the clothes. One in such a disguise would obviously be picked out as a noble, but he didn't think he'd survive the experience of pointing this out to the clearly impatient and angry woman. "Well, I'm grateful, your Grace. Now, what are your orders?"

"Our tactician will be here shortly with the rest of our group." Roy responded, for he saw that Alice was, for whatever reason, incapacitated. Seizing his chance, he whispered to Dieck, "Never make light of her again. It's for your own good. Pass that along to the rest of your group."

Dieck nodded, eying the woman warily. If reputation was anything to go by, she had dangerous tutors and vassals just as dangerous. It wouldn't do to have his crude manners risk his Black Lagoon mercenary company. "I mean, I knew there were some major players in your group, but… the Hawk? In person? I look forward to seeing the Knights of the Realm."

"My father won't be coming. He is ill."

Dieck blanched. "Oh… I'm sorry. I mean, I signed up for Lycia expecting Lord Eliwood to take the field with us."

Roy was sorry for dragging mercenaries into a fight they didn't know they would get into. Of course they signed on expecting to be under the aegis of his father. "You're free to leave."

"No can do, Lord."

"Huh? Why not? You're a mercenary. Mercenaries need to be alive to spend the gold they earn."

"Yes, but I'm a good mercenary; and good mercenaries do what they're paid to do. Besides, Thany's a Pegasus Knight. I already got paid."

"… I see. Well, at least we also have the Storm of Swords and the General Marcus with us."

"Is she as good as the rumors say?" Dieck asked, his eyes widening.

"I don't know. What do the rumors say?"

"There was one rumor that says that her husband wasn't there to order her in battle one day, so she grew bored and stormed a castle by herself, killing a hundred guards by herself."

"That's probably an exaggeration, but I assure you she's one of the best blades on the continent."

"Wait… if she's here, is her husband-"

"Yes. The Red Baron oversees our forces' tactics. The commander, of course, is Marquess Hector."

"Huh. I change my mind. We'll win."

"That's the spirit." Roy grinned.

"Oi there, you lot!"

Roy spun around to see Pearl and the rest of the group join them. He waved back at Pearl, who looked as cheerful as she usually did.

"Uh… I don't see a black haired man with red clothes on a huge wyvern anywhere." Dieck said.

"Yeah, about that… I forgot to mention that godfather's at Araphen right now, and that girl, his daughter, is our tactician. She's twelve, by the way."

"Our tactician is twelve years old?" the mercenary said in disbelief.

"She had the best training this continent could provide, and frankly, we don't have anyone else, so… yes."

The individual in question brought over her wyvern to the mercenary captain.

"Hi! I'm Pearl, and I am the tactician of this army! Pleased to meet you. My, you have lots of scars, don't you? I guess you're the leader of these mercenaries?"

While Pearl greeted Dieck with great warmth, Alice glared at him and the clothes she'd offered him meaningfully. Dieck hastened to put the clothes on.

"Yes, Lady Pearl. I am Dieck. This is Ward, Lot, and our Pegasus Knight is Thany," Dieck bowed.

"Ugh… eww…" Pearl said, seeing the pile of corpses in front of the fortifications. "Do they even have any men left?"

"I only saw one armor knight left, tactician. I suppose there could be more in the castle, but… if there were, why didn't they help their comrades?"

"That is sound reasoning scar-chan, are you sure you're a mercenary?"

"Ah. It's been a while since I've been to Sacae."

"Really? I must make sure you pick up the words again soon." Pearl laughed. "Anyhow… an armored knight, hmm? Ward and Lot, is it? I'd like to test your prowess. Go engage the knight, both of you at once. My Lady aunt will swoop in to save the day if it looks like you need help. Grandpa Marcus, Roy, come along and observe. Everyone else, march to the castle at a leisurely pace."

"Master Roy." Marcus said, holding out a hand. Roy took the familiar seat behind Marcus. Marcus had always been his unofficial grandfather figure, of sorts. His godfather told him that Marcus had loved his grandmother before she was married to his grandfather. The Red Baron was always one to emphasize the importance of knowing one's subjects, and Marcus was an important subject.

Roy noticed, with a start, that they had already arrived at the castle gates. The two axemen that Dieck had said were Ward and Lot were fighting against an armored knight. The two displayed excellent coordination and teamwork. It was, in a way, no, every way, beautiful… for it was obvious that the two trusted each other with their lives and were willing to defend each other with their lives. Roy wished, not for the first time, that he had a brother.

One of the axemen, Ward, succeeded in disarming the knight. Lot promptly relieved the knight of his head. It took three more strokes to truly decapitate the knight, but it was done.

"Go! Find the Princess and bring her to the main hall! I'll bring in the rest of our group," said Pearl.

* * *

"Ellen!"

"Your Highness!"

The two women embraced each other.

"As moving as this reunion is, is it not polite to thank your rescuers first?" Merlinus tapped his feet, glaring.

Guinevere glanced around, taking in her surroundings. "Ah… yes. Thank you for rescuing me. I take it you're Lord Roy? Hello, Lady Lyndis. Hello, Lady Alice," she was startled when she realized someone was groping her rear. "And if you're here, that must mean Pearl is here."

Pearl continued to take refuge beneath her dress but hugged her favored toy in acknowledgement.

"It was no trouble."

"Now, you say you weren't in on your brother's plans, little girl." Lyn growled. "Why the hells should we believe you? You had to have known of your brother's intentions for some time, why didn't you warn anyone?"

"I know it may not sound plausible, but-"

"Your brother killed my most loyal retainers, levied illegal troops and taxes from my subjects, invaded my family's home, and is about to strike at the home of my friends. Tell me, Princess, why shouldn't we give him a taste of the pain he inflicted upon countless others?" Alice said, her expression calm. Her eyes, however, told a different story. "What is it about you that stops me from feeding your bones to Fenrir?"

"Lord Roy, you promised that you wouldn't harm her!" Ellen shouted.

"He spoke for himself and his retainers. The others, he can't speak for," Madelyn pointed out.

"Wait, even if she did want to stop the war, what could she do? She's the Princess, and Zephiel is still King. Wait… did you really think you could do something to stop the war?!" Pearl cackled. She loved to point out the obvious.

"I don't know… but I **must** stop it." Guinevere said. "Even if I must give up my life for it, I will stop this war, so help me God."

"Such conviction." Alice raised an eyebrow. "But if it came to it, are you willing… are you able to grant your brother mercy? Will you save him from his madness?"

Guinevere took a long time to answer. One could see her struggle, and it was plain on her face. Eventually, she answered. "… Yes. This war must be stopped. It is sucking my countrymen's blood dry. If my brother cannot accept that… yes, I will raise a sword against him, though I am but a woman and a weak one."

Silence reigned over the room.

"To be a noble," Madelyn began, "one must be willing to shed blood. Your blood, or the blood of your people's enemies; it does not matter. Our ancestry does not define our nobility. Our blood, our sacrifice, and our duty… such are the qualities that truly separate a real noble and a parasite. We are the shepherd of our people, and we are their first line of defense."

"In royalty, that conviction, that certain devotion to the cause… that is even more important. I recognize the conviction in your voice, your love for your people, and your pity for your brother," said Lyn.

"King Zephiel is dead," Alice murmured. Then, she bent her knee. "Long live Queen Guinevere, the First of her name. May she prove more worthy of the crown than her predecessor proved to be."

* * *

Chapter 8 of Oedipus Rex now has an omake.


	4. False Premises

Kayleth knew that the sun would come up soon. He had measured the time the sun rose yesterday. He nodded to Hector.

"Now, before we are plunged into the maelstrom of battle, let us pray. Archbishop Serra." Hector shouted over the distant din of battle, and a Pegasus, bearing its rider and Serra, flew over to the middle of the Lycian army.

Archbishop Serra, of Ostia, was clad in her formal vestments, and led the prayer in a ringing and sonorous voice. Upon the Pegasus, and in her formal vestments, she may well have seemed like an angel to the commoners.

"Our Father who art in Heaven, hear our prayer

I arise today  
Through the strength of the love of Cherubim,  
In obedience of angels,  
In the service of archangels,  
In hope of resurrection to meet with reward,  
In prayers of patriarchs,  
In predictions of prophets,  
In preaching of apostles,  
In faith of confessors,  
In innocence of holy virgins,  
In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today  
Through the strength of heaven:  
Light of sun,  
Radiance of moon,  
Splendor of fire,  
Speed of lightening  
Swiftness of wind,  
Depth of sea,  
Stability of earth,  
Firmness of rock

I arise today  
Through God's strength to pilot me:  
God's might to uphold me,  
God's wisdom to guide me,  
God's eye to look before me,  
God's ear to hear me,  
God's word to speak for me,  
God's hand to guard me,  
God's shield to protect me,  
God's host to save me  
From snares of devils  
From temptations of vices,  
From everyone who shall wish me ill,  
Afar and near,  
Alone and in multitude

I summon today all these powers between me and those evils,  
Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose my body and soul,  
Against incantations of false prophets,  
Against black laws of pagandom,  
Against false laws of heretics,  
Against craft of idolatry,  
Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,  
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.  
Holy Spirit shield me today  
Against poison, against burning,  
Against drowning, against wounding,  
So that there may come to me abundance of reward.

In God's name, Amen."

A great chorus of 'Amen' rang across the field. Kayleth knew, then, that the Lycian army would have its best chance now. Its morale could not be higher. They had cut off Bernese supplies, if the naval operations went as smoothly as he expected, and had undisputable air superiority while covered beneath the protective blanket of the dug-in artillery. Even if the army should fail to break the Bernese one, it would fall back in time to initiate Kayleth's fail-safe for the area outside the castle walls. The scythed chariots driven by armored bulls should have killed or maimed at least two legion's worth of fighting men by now.

He knew the Bernese army would stop just beyond the range of his artillery. His light infantry and the bulls were hidden in camouflaged earthworks just inside the range of the artillery. They had started attacking two hours ago.

As soon as the sun shines over the battlefield, the order would be given to charge. The Bernese army would find out that they had been fighting each other in the confusion of darkness. By Kayleth's estimate, they must have killed around four legions of their own men. The fiercest fighting had come about around the center where the Bernese veterans were located, and they were more likely to have killed and been killed than the new blood were. Although the Lycians still had a decisive disadvantage in numbers, they had a greater proportion of professionals, better morale, better arms, and more rest unless they were facing Hamorian Legions. Kayleth doubted that Zephiel would be stupid enough to risk those Legions seeing him and his sister alive, though.

The first rays of the sun reached the battlefield.

"All forces, forward!" Kayleth screamed.

"Forward, all forces!" Hector roared, giving the signal, and battle-horns rang across Lycian lines. Flags indicating a massed charge were lifted for all to see.

A ferocious war cry resounded as the mounted knights of Lycia closed within charging distance. Led by Lowen, the cavalry came to an all-out charging speed.

Kayleth had seen protracted sieges with great war-machines; his schemes had seen Legions burned alive. He had seen Divine Weapons brought into play against an ancient dragon. Kayleth watched avalanches and floods sweep away Legions as though they were nothing. He infiltrated the Palace and staged a successful coup against King Desmond.

Nothing compared to the majesty of the charge of massed Lycian cavalry.

Since the western portion of the Bernese army had thought that they were fighting the Lycian army which managed to launch a surprise attack from the east, their magi and archers were stationed 'behind lines'. Though in proper armies, archers and magi have a fair chance against cavalry, that was only so when there were close-quarters troops forming a wall in front of them.

The light-armored or unarmored ranged troops were slaughtered in mere instants. A tide of horse and steel engulfed them without mercy.

Lycian artillery, forced outside the walls for this occasion overnight, rained death near the middle of the Bernese camp.

Wyvern Knights were picked off by archers and intercepted by Pegasus Knights.

Right behind the vanguard of mounted knights, Legio XVI joined the fray. Kayleth watched as Wallace and Oswin proved that age matters little if you take care of your body well enough. Each stroke from their lances slaughtered several Bernese soldiers at once. He could see that the Bernese soldiers were tired and panicked, for they found they had been duped into fighting their own troops and that the Lycians were well-rested, well-fed, and in good fighting spirit.

Kayleth witnessed the breaking point. A soldier, perhaps thirty years old, was holding the banner and watching in horror as the Lycian charge broke the back of the Bernese army's forward elements. As the Lycian cavalry approached, he dropped the banner.

He ran, throwing down his weapons and shoving a Knight off his horse to take it.

One, two, a squad, a formation… the Bernese army's western flank broke.

"Hector, our cavalry needs to ride them down!" Kayleth shouted as Hector waded into the Bernese line. Hector gave him a brief nod, and Kayleth blew his horn for a hot pursuit. The Lycian horsemen eagerly complied.

Kayleth risked a little more altitude that he might see what was happening on the entire battlefield. The western flank was broken in its entirety. The Bernese had perhaps eighteen legions of men available for battle. Soon, that number would be cut down even further. At an appropriate point, the Lycian army would make a well-organized tactical retreat under the cover of its artillery stationed at the forward firebases.

Below, the Bernese began to reform their lines. Kayleth noticed that Zephiel had reintroduced the Centurions, who were killing those who were fleeing and getting them back in line. However, the broken Bernese soldiers were more afraid of the ever-approaching tide of Lycian cavalry.

The tactician knew, though, that the time for attrition was coming. Indeed, he had almost reacted too late. Kayleth blew his horn for the cavalry to return and for the foot soldiers to advance. He saw Wyvern Knights approaching in the horizon, but they were mere specks and would take time, crucial time, to reach the field when it mattered.

The Count cocked his head to the side, wondering why the shapes were growing larger so quickly. That kind of sheer speed should be impossible for wyverns. But it still didn't matter. The forward based Lycian ballistae were guaranteed to have them in range soon enough.

The flag carriers caught up with Kayleth. He ordered them to get the infantry to charge, and the cavalry to start flanking the Bernese lines. Lycian archers and magi started peppering the reforming Bernese spear walls.

"For Lycia and freedom, charge!" Hector roared, pointing his axe towards the east. Kayleth knew that facing the east in the morning was disadvantageous, but this was hardly the issue with these numbers and circumstances. He watched, proud of his handiwork which just reached the Bernese formation.

Kayleth swore that Zephiel would pay dearly for this insanity; he had it in his mind to flay him, crucify him, and then tie each of his limbs to a wagon and have the wagons go off in opposite directions. Afterwards, he would have him healed… so that a more rigorous torturing regimen could be implemented. If he couldn't be a good king, he could be a good example.

"Kayleth!" Rebecca's scream jolted him out of his reverie.

"What, what?!" he shouted back.

The Ranger General of Pherae pointed at the sky. Kayleth looked, and froze.

It was mind-boggling. Wyverns couldn't possibly be that large. Kayleth thought, perhaps, that those were ships powered by magic, but he knew that that was not so.

The shapes grew even larger, and then Kayleth forced himself to accept what couldn't possibly be true; dozens of dragons soared through the skies toward Araphen.

He gulped. He was nauseous, about to throw up, his heart about to burst, his brains reeling with the sudden rush of blood, blood needed to process this impossible situation.

True to form, his brains answered. But it was not the usual scores of possibilities, probabilities, and scenarios that his mind usually came up with. Kayleth stared blankly at the only option the Lycian army had.

Kayleth blew a loud series of notes, ordering a full retreat. All who did not make it back on time to the fortifications would be left to perish. The flag-carriers signaled as much, and then abandoned the flags to run.

"Legio XVI retreat! All forces retreat!" Kayleth screamed at the top of his lungs.

The Lycian army broke. Confused by the sudden order to retreat, they didn't notice the dragons. In fact, they were hesitant to abandon the decisive assault against the Bernese invaders.

"What are you doing, Kayleth?!" Hector shouted, his fury evident in his voice, and it was obvious he would kill him if he came into axe-range.

Kayleth pointed at the skies. There was no choice but to reveal the truth. At least most of his personal Legion heeded his words; they would not be trampled to death by the rest of the Lycians' retreat. "Dragons! The dragons are back, retreat if you wish to live! All forces, fall back!"

Hector stared at Kayleth with a blank expression for a second. He then looked at the skies. The fast-approaching shapes were growing by the second, and would reach Lycian lines within minutes.

The Lord of Lycia could not believe it. Nergal was defeated almost twenty years ago. This should not be happening.

"All forces, fall back! Fall back to the fortifications! Fly you fools!"

At the behest of their sovereign, the Lycians fled in terror. They had noticed the now unmistakable profiles of the dragons, too.

Humanity, as a race, ruled over Elibe for a reason. They survived. They thrived. No matter the countless numbers of stupid things they did, they survived to reach the top of the food chain.

That was because humans had an excellent sense for self-preservation. When a creature bigger than you appears, you hide and assess your options. The certifiably retarded humans who attacked the larger creatures died and were thankfully unable to pass on their idiocy to the next generation.

There were many factors to be addressed in getting a human to stand up against a dragon. Compared to dragons, humans were small, fragile… insignificant. The dragons' underestimation of humanity's prowess to survive and kill off competing species was one of the main reasons of their defeat during the Scouring.

The Lycian army did not have such factors right now. The resulting rout was astounding; the same thing that happened to the Bernese not a half-hour earlier was now happening to the Lycians.

The dragons drew ever closer, promising hot and grisly deaths to the puny mortals dotting the ground. Kayleth knew that he needed a plan, or more than half of the Lycians would be slaughtered. A rout without a rearguard was always disastrous. The ballistae and bolting tomes would be of limited use in dispelling such large numbers of dragons, for they had to concentrate fire. He doubted they could coordinate such a response early enough to stop the rout. Only one option was available, one move that could, with a little luck, ground the dragons long enough.

"Joan!" Kayleth called the leader of the Pegasus Knights currently stationed in Lycia. Luckily, she heard, and responded to his summons. So did her second, Kazenala.

"What is it, Lord tactician?" Joan said calmly. Kayleth was impressed, as he was when he had first met her, by her professionalism and stoic demeanor. It was probably why she got along so well with the Ostians. She showed little trace of surprise, but that was about it. Joan accepted that the dragons were, for one reason or another that she could not fathom nor care about, here. She knew that the Lycian army would meet its end on the field, and a good many of her own would perish as well.

"The Pegasus Knights are not to retreat with the rest of the army. You will rally them, and force the dragons to the ground. Delay them as long as you can or divert them away from the castle, keeping an eye on the Lycian army's retreat, and fall back when the Lycian army is safe."

"What? You're mad! We would all die out there! Those are dragons! Wyverns, I can understand. Dragons, I cannot!" Kazenala shouted.

Joan leveled her eyes with Kayleth. He could see that part of her thought the same thing, knew the same thing that her second had just said.

"… I see. So this is the loyalty of the Pegasus Knights of Ilia." Kayleth hated himself for having to do this. He was, without a doubt, one of the most despicable scumbags in all of Elibe for doing this, but someone had to do it for the future of humanity.

"Why, you-" Kazenala seemed just about to kill him.

"Stop!" Joan said, blocking her second's attack route. "Gather our sisters."

Kazenala's eyes widened with shock. "But Joan, this is-"

"I am in charge of all Pegasus Knights in Lycia." A hard glare answered back.

"… Yes, Captain." Joan's second blew a whistle that would resound most keenly to the Pegasii. Since talking in the air in combat situation was unfeasible at best, the Pegasus Knights had long since developed a method of rallying the Pegasus Knights quickly.

Joan turned back to Kayleth. "Any other orders, milord?"

Such was the loyalty of the Pegasus Knights of Ilia. They would risk certain death if it was a direct order from their employer. That fate was a given ever since they were born, the gift of the ice and snow that covered their homeland.

There was a reason why it was said that the Pegasus Knights would never betray their employers. The keyword was 'never'. It was proven over a millennium of human conflict that oftentimes pitted even blood-related sisters against each other. The Etrurian Succession Crisis of 239 A.S., the War of the Mad Duke Eizenhorn of 183 A.S., the War for the Western Isles of 501 A.S., and countless other wars proved that a Pegasus Knight would fight to the death for their employers, regardless of their opponents and odds.

There lay the reason for the price that came along with Pegasus Knights. They had paid for the premium with blood and tears. Left in a free market, people are eventually paid exactly what they are worth. By the laws of human nature, people sought the best jobs they could get. They took the jobs they had because they had no better choice. Those who claimed they were worth more had a delusional sense of self-worth, and they were kidding themselves if they placed the blame on others or 'misfortune'.

Even worse were the people who blame the others' 'luck' for their 'misfortune'. Pure luck did not exist. Luck was opportunity meets preparedness. It was not the others' fault that they were prepared and turned opportunity into luck. No other mercenaries could command the price that the Pegasus Knights of Ilia of a similar caliber demanded; not even magi could, for they were liable to value their lives over their loyalty to their employers.

People paid such prices for Pegasus Knights because they knew that they were worth it.

Kayleth could not for the life of him think of the appropriate words. That was strange, because he was usually quite glib.

"Tell your women… that I'm sorry. Tell them there are no other options. Lycia has to survive to restore the balance of power. If they had dragons invading Ilia, Ilia has already fallen. The combined might of Lycia and Etruria is the only hope they have left. Tell them I'll make sure to compensate their families properly. Tell them-"

"I understand, Count Kayleth." Joan cut him off. She was eyeing the imminent arrival of the dragons. Then, Joan smiled at him.

Being the person that he is, he could not imagine why she would smile at him. In her place, he would have told him to shove a sharpened stick up his arse.

"Rest assured, milord. We will understand. We will do our duty, until we have nothing left to give. All I ask, Lord, is that our sacrifice means something. … It has been an honor take the field of battle with you, milord." Joan saluted, a hint of sadness touching her eyes.

The tactician came very close to cancelling his order. He fought to bring himself back under control. His reasoning was sound and there really was no other option when considering the good of mankind's future in Elibe.

Kayleth raised his own lance in salute. "As always, an honor to take the field with the Pegasus Knights of Ilia. I wish I had another choice, I wish…. No. That is not fair to you and your people. Farewell, and may the Heroes greet you and yours at the Gates of Elysium. May your Pegasus's heart beat strong. May you use your enemies to make red snow. May the spirit of Barigan watch over you. And may none say that you and yours have not protected the honor of Ilia to your dying breath."

Joan's smile widened. "You honor us, Lord, when it is nothing less than our duty. But I am disquieted at your choice of words."

"Huh?"

"You sound as though you expect us to die. Worse, you sound as though you expect us to lose. We have no intention of failing our employer, Lord. That is, if you want us to win?"

Kayleth was stunned to see Joan joke in front of the man who had, in effect, sentenced her and her women to death.

"Ah, pardon me. Of course you will." Kayleth took out his marshal's baton, and pointed at the Bernese encampment. "In the name of Lord Hector, your employer for whom I am tactician, I, Count Kayleth of the most ancient and noble house of Winterfell, command you; kill them all, Captain, and there will be a bonus per head."

Before he could change his mind, Kayleth fled towards the fortifications. He noted, eventually, that he had overextended the army on the pursuit of Bernese forces. At this rate, even a heroic sacrifice of the Pegasus Knights would buy him only enough time to retrieve his cavalry and his ranged forces.

That was not acceptable. He had little need of cavalry in a siege, for a siege this must be if they were to have any chance at victory. Mounted knights made poor soldiers off their horses. He needed his infantry to survive.

Kayleth's predictions started coming to life. He watched as Joan gave the speech to her troops: the speech that commanders gave when they knew they faced great odds to rally the troops… the speech that the troops knew gave them false hope, yet accepted nonetheless. Kayleth could not help but notice how young some of them were, barely Madelyn's age.

Then, he stared in horror as he saw a dragon land where the children of Lowen, Sain, Harken, and Isadora were. The cavalry charge had taken them too deep into enemy lines. A roaring inferno engulfed them all.

Hector was doing his best to rally the troops into a hastier retreat. It wasn't working out so well, but at least he had flag-bearers near him. Kayleth descended to his side.

Matthew's trembling hands held three blood-soaked letters. The one who delivered them was presumably the one who lay dead at his feet.

"Kayleth… they had dragons. Operation Deep End… three of our ships made it out. There was no appreciable damage to the enemy fleet. Sacae… the Djute have betrayed us all. Rath is dead. Guy is dead. Bulgar has been sacked. Rath's daughter seeks sanctuary in Thria; Marquess Orun has accepted her. The Borjigin and the Kutolah… there were few survivors, a fraction of their former numbers. A Pegasus Knight has escaped the amphibious landing in Ilia, and did not pause save for water and a few hours of sleep to get to Araphen. She's dead, but she brought a letter that explains everything. They had dragons there, too. Farina, Fiora, Kent, and Dart are dead. Ilia is in Bernese hands."

Kayleth was a strong believer in the principle of 'hope for the best and prepare for the worst', but this was just getting ridiculous. This didn't qualify as 'worst', it was 'apocalyptic'. Only Etruria now had anything like the numbers to stop Bern. Lycia was about to fall here unless he did something about it.

"Hector, order all cavalry of the fifth, eighth, and the ninth Legions to rally for a countercharge." Kayleth said, choosing not to consider Matthew's news for the time being.

"What? You'll be sending them to their deaths!" Hector said.

"Yes, and in exchange we'll save more: around two hundred and fifty cavalry in exchange for the lives of around seven hundred infantry for what promises to be a protracted siege at best. It's a good bargain, we need to take it."

"Wait a minute, Kayleth!"

The tactician of the crumbling Lycian Army stared as all but three of the Numbered Knights of Lycia and their retainers approached him. He wondered if they blamed him for their children's death.

"_Gods… the children._"

When he occasionally visited Pherae, he regaled them with war stories, watched them play with his own children, and of late, had counseled them in their careers. He forgot about their children. Kayleth's negligence, his lack of foresight, would see not only to their deaths but had already seen to the deaths of their children as well.

"Kayleth, I cancel my wish." Sain said.

"That's not necessary. Elements of Legio V, VIII, and IX are positioned to slow the enemy advance. They've been ordered to place themselves as close to the enemy foot units as possible. They'll give as good as they get." Kayleth snapped. It would, in reality, be a one-sided slaughter of course.

"I change my wish… I wish to save them."

"Damn you, Sain! We just need to escape, we just need the Divine Weapons, and then we'll see who's laughing in the end!" Kayleth snarled in impotent fury.

"We both know you need an army more than you need individual warriors, for the time being. You need individual warriors to drive into enemy lines, dull the draconic offensive. Who better than, well, us?" Lowen said.

"Not you, too?! Isadora, Harken, talk some sense into them!"

"I… agree with them, Lord." Isadora said.

"You worthless and disobedient pieces of horse dung and manure! The iron must've rusted your brains! I care nothing about the bleating masses. Nothing, I tell you, not a bloody damn thing! What I do care about is you! Troops with whom I can snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat!" Kayleth screamed in fury.

"Then… all we ask, all we wish… is that our deaths be used productively. Give us our last command, Kayleth." Harken said, a stoic expression coming over his face.

"… If I refuse?" Kayleth calmed himself with great difficulty, trembling in rage and fear.

"We'll just charge blindly." Sain shrugged.

Kayleth screamed another string of abuses at the knights, who bore it with equanimity. As he vented his frustration, he realized that they were not wrong. They, the noted knights, and their retainers were no more than fifty. In return, they would save over two hundred soldiers, soldiers that Kayleth would need if only to tie down the Bernese Army, and buy the precious time he needed to get the defenses ready.

Doubt and fear surged through the tactician's mind as he quickly quelled such emotions. His blood was the blood of the Dukes of Winterfell, who fought by Hartmut's side; centuries of breeding and warring produced capable soldiers, and soldiers learned to overcome fear.

But then he could not deny that these soldiers, Knights of the Realm, had a duty. Moreover, they were willing to execute their duty even if it cost them their lives. They wished him to command them to their maximum potential. They wished for honorable, and fulfilling, deaths. Most importantly, they were human beings… friends as well as comrades-in-arms… he owed them choice, and choice was sacred to Kayleth.

For choice is the only thing separates man and animal.

"… Your wishes have been heard. Enemy leadership seems to be guarded by dragons. You are to feint for the leaders and go for the dragons. You remember their weaknesses. May we meet again in the halls of our ancestors, you stubborn, headstrong fools…."

"Thank you, Kayleth, for everything. We hope you find your redemption." Isadora and Harken said, bowing one last time.

"Give my regards to Lady Lyndis, Kayleth, and thank you. I pray you'll make our charge worth something." Sain said.

"Thank you… for you've made my wish come true. May we meet again, Kayleth." Lowen said.

"Fools… idiots, scum of the Earth…. It was my honor… my greatest pleasure and point of pride, to know you all. I'm sorry about your children." Kayleth broke down on the ground, kneeling, and started to weep uncontrollably.

Kayleth was sending these men to certain death and they were thanking him. The Numbered knights of Lycia gathered their peers and men at arms. In moments, they began their countercharge, their last charge against Bernese lines.

He wiped a tear from his eyes, and wanted to look away. He owed them, however, and watched as they bought him the time for an orderly withdrawal and establishment of defensive positions in the outer fortifications. As instructed, the knights, nearly all of them mounted, made their way straight for the dragons.

The Count was relieved to see that the dragons were younger, and therefore smaller and weaker than the dragons he had faced at Dread Isle. He was aware that a well-placed ballista bolt would harm them. He now knew that they were vulnerable to mortal arms as well.

Kayleth choked when he saw fifteen mounted men unhorsed by a single sweep of a dragon's tail. Five managed to get back up. Three of the survivors fell to the blazing inferno that was the dragon's breath, but the last two managed to break through and pierce the dragon's unarmored body, driving it off.

Such accounts of desperation and heroism recurred throughout the battlefield, and the Bernese advance, for the moment, stopped.

The tactician could hear no words as Oswin screamed at him, pulling him bodily away from the front. Kayleth did not notice and screamed his advice to Lowen, who couldn't hear him. He felt nothing but apprehension as Sir Lowen, the champion of Pherae, charged a huge creature of fire and scales.

No mortals could withstand his assault, and Lowen eventually carved his way to the dragon. The monstrosity answered his challenge, and the world around Lowen burst into flames. Kayleth wailed in despair, and started fighting against Oswin's unbreakable grip.

As abruptly as it appeared, the fire disappeared and revealed Lowen on his feet, holding the dead dragon's heart for all to see and roaring in victorious joy.

No fewer than ten Wyvern Knights crashed as they each sought the glory of felling a dragonslayer. Lowen managed to evade one, then kill one, block, and kill another before he succumbed to his grievous wounds inflicted upon him by the dragon. He dropped his lance as he lost all feeling in his left arm. The Pheraen knight pulled out his sword and hacked away at a wyvern's wing. He was punched off his horse when a Wyvern Knight crashed into him. Kayleth went limp, eyes widening in shock, for Lowen was the first of the veterans of the War against Nergal to die under his command.

To have sent such a fine soldier to certain death made him vomit. The knowledge that he was responsible for his death caused him to vomit on Oswin's face.

Hector ran to his side, and helped Oswin squirrel away their tactician to safety and hopefully functioning sanity. Kayleth didn't notice.

The tactician had no eyes for anyone other than Sain, Isadora, and Harken now. Kayleth remembered to breathe as Sain took advantage of an opening made by his retainers to mow down a dozen magi and reach his goal.

Kayleth's heart skipped a beat as the dragon bent down to eat Sain, but the dragon missed and lost an eye instead. The dragon thrashed in pain, and stopped only when Sain weathered a hail of arrows to find creature's soft forehead and ended the dragon's pain.

The Green Lance of Caelin did not survive the second volley of arrows. He perished, his back straight, his knees unbent, and his posture defiant to the end. But his head was bowed.

The tactician would have given much to go to Sain's side and lift his chin up.

Kayleth's eyes swiveled, almost belatedly, to Harken and Isadora. The female Knight of Pherae was dismounted, but a veritable hill of bodies surrounded her and her husband. It was sublime. The pair might not have known who they were facing, but they knew perfectly well what they as a team were capable of. They showed no hesitation, trusting each other to defend their blindside and risking their lives to defend one another. The rhythm of their dance, for the carnage they weaved was no less elegant than a dance, reached its crescendo as they dug themselves out of the embrace of the Bernese troops who had encircled them.

There was a flash of light as the concentrated magical assault of the Bernese army washed over the pair, forcing them to their knees. A swarm of Bernese soldiers closed in to butcher the Pheraens.

With a chocking gasp, Kayleth fainted, and for that at least, Hector was grateful.

* * *

Kayleth opened his eyes.

He screamed.

"Kayleth, it's alright, you're safe." Serra said, running a hand over his arm.

"No, not that! The dragons! That had to be a nightmare. Tell me that was a bad dream!" Kayleth pulled Serra down by the collar.

Serra closed her eyes, and her lips tightened. That was enough of an answer. The battle was real. The dragons were real. Scores of dragons roamed Elibe. He had lost

The enemies of humanity had only to win once.

"Legio IV, V, and VIII have taken terrible casualties. Nearly six hundred are dead, nearly a thousand are wounded." Matthew said, having returned when he heard the scream.

"That's eight Legions' worth of men, Matthew!"

"So I hear…."

"We need the Mage Corps, but they're months away… the closest of their Legions are weeks away… how did your spies not see this, Matthew?! They're gods-damned dragons!"

"Even the Bernese soldiers realized what they were a couple of days ago… after my spies retreated from the first strike, when the dragons were used to airlift Bernese forces to the front. I suspect only the King and the Wyvern Generals knew of this at all."

"I don't give a shit about that now. Sitrep," said Kayleth, forcing calm upon himself.

"They're bombarding our forward firebases. We have not seen dragons for a while now."

"They'll come in for a frontal assault come dawn… they would be idiots not to. But with dragons, they'll force their way through too easily. Bring me Erk."

Matthew nodded, and rushed back to the front.

"Huh? Why would you need Erk?" Serra said.

Kayleth chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Serra rolled her eyes.

"Serra, do you think you're Archbishop of Ostia for no reason?" Kayleth got in closer to whisper. "I need you to use **it**."

Serra flinched back, and observed Kayleth.

She knew he knew what **it** was.

"It's forbidden. It's a formal vestment, a holy artifact, meant for show only; knitted by the Saint herself; sanctified by the tears of a thousand orphans and stitched by a hundred widows; the sorrow of humanity over the burning of Nabata given form and made manifest!" Serra hissed, looking around to make sure they weren't overheard.

"Lycia's survival-no, the survival of free men depends on it!" Kayleth hissed back. "I don't know specifically what Ostia's does, but I know the capabilities of the Bernese one. We must use it."

An epiphany crossed Serra's mind.

She wasn't Archbishop of Ostia for no reason.

"Erk wasn't Mage General of Etruria for no reason… was he?"

"It's a suspicion, but a well-founded one. I suspect it is as potent as one of your miracles."

"Still, it won't be enough to turn the tide, Kayleth. I don't know what you think it is, but-"

"Serra, your son is still here, that I know. However… your daughter's in Ostia, isn't she?"

"Yes, but I fail to see what that has to do with this."

"What the survival of mankind requires right now, Serra, is an army. Therefore, there are two primary objectives that we have right now. First, we will ensure the escape of as many men as possible. Second, we need to decrease their numbers here and now! Yes... Araphen will be the graveyard of us all. We must ensure that the rest, those who aren't at Araphen, have a chance!"

"That's why you let Sain, Lowen, Isadora, and Harken go?!" Serra said, outraged.

"I didn't let them go, Serra. I let them make a choice, and the choice was the most beneficial one to us all. It was a hard choice, and it wounded me badly, so don't you dare accuse me of not giving a damn! But I would give the same order each time if I were given the choice a million times. You cannot possibly know what it is like to hold the fate of mankind in your hands!" Kayleth inflected his voice with as much contempt and command as possible. This was not a good time to be questioned. "If it adds even slightly to humanity's chances for victory in the war, I will gladly send all of us to our deaths."

"A lively conversation, hmm?" Erk entered the tent.

"Eavesdropping is not a commendable trait in a Mage General."

"I no longer am one. What do you need?"

"… Lord Athos, praised be his name, took Lord Pent as his apprentice. Lord Pent took you as his apprentice. Among the notes that Lord Athos left, I am positive that there was something about, for the lack of a better term, a death curse, Magik of the most devastating sort from the bygone Age of the Gods."

Erk looked around quickly, and formed a seal to block off the tent.

"How did you know?!" Erk hissed.

"I guessed. It is in the most vivid accounts of Scouring history, too. The greatest of our magi… some of the fires that consumed Nabata were not dragons' breath, correct? There is no way that the Archsage did not take notes on how people used to manipulate magecraft back then. The Magic from the Age of the Gods, the enchantment that empowers the Durandal for instance, or the tome Forblaze."

"Yes…."

"Can you do it?"

"We're not withdrawing?" Erk's eyes widened. "You have got to be kidding me!"

"We're besieged, fool! We have nowhere to withdraw to in such numbers. However, with your sacrifice… enough of the Lycian army can escape that there will yet be hope for mankind, and for your sons in Etruria."

"Don't bring my sons into this!"

"But I must. I'm giving you a choice. You must make an informed choice."

"A sorry excuse for meticulously calculated manipulation!"

"Meticulous, hmm? So you can and you will do it. Did you mention this kind of magic to Nino, too? When she was on the run in Etruria, I mean."

Erk flinched back, and realized belatedly that he had given away the answer.

"When Legio II seems like it will be overwhelmed tomorrow, burn everything. The entire forward fortifications. For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Erk… I think you should explain things to Priscilla."

Erk ran through the possibilities in his head. He was an intelligent man and, though more devoted to the mysteries of magic than military strategy compared to Kayleth, he knew enough to know that Kayleth was right. If his sons were to survive, they needed to have as many men escape as possible while holding the citadel and the castle with the fewest men possible; the few men left to defend the citadel and the castle had to be capable of dealing the maximum damage possible, so as to slow the enemy advance and pursuit.

In short, all the veterans of the war against Nergal would die here. If everyone outside Araphen were to have a chance, they needed to buy as much time as possible and inflict the most damage possible. The veterans of the war against Nergal, select specialist forces, the Ironlords of Ostia, trained artillery crews, and the most steadfast of mercenaries would die here. They, and three other Legions, so that five Legions could survive and continue the fight.

* * *

Notes on Ilian society.

Few humans in the real world are hardy enough to survive the barren and icy wasteland Ilia seems to be. They import grain, so it's unlikely their agricultural sector is big. Most likely they'd survive by fishing, hunting, herding cold-weather animals, and plundering southern lands, but the powers that be of Intelligent Systems decided everything in FE must be noblebright. Thus, they're 'dependable mercenaries' instead of plundering and pillaging hordes of rapists and murderers. Pfft. In case you haven't guessed, no such thing exists in the real world. Most mercenaries stabbed their employers' backs at the first opportunity. You see, the first rule of the mercenary is that he has to be alive to spend his money. The second is to make as much money as possible. Honorable mercenaries my ass.

We'll posit for the sake of canon that the Ilians are actually 'dependable mercenaries'. Now, if they're anywhere near half as useful as they would be in real life, they'd get paid the big bucks. Enough to even support their families living in the frozen hellhole.

They're feudal (Lord Zealot, Lady Juno), and apparently ruled by a Mercenary Knights' Council of some sort. Makes sense, given how important martial abilities must be in a society that lives in a frozen hellhole.

As reliant as they seem to be on selling their services as mercenaries, and as successful as they seem to be in the business, the Ilians would have developed a society in which to run/betray one's employer would carry a social stigma equal to or worse than death. Why? The failure of one reflects poorly on the reputation of the entire mercenary guild, extending all the way to all Ilian mercenaries. Probable that they'd have assassins dedicated to hunting down those who tarnish their reputation.

As equal opportunity as human armies seem to be in Elibe, we'll have to assume rape is commonplace. Being a female soldier in a medieval world is, in general, a risky proposition for your virginity. Considering this element, and the tactical flexibility of Pegasus Knights being the only ones able to counter Wyvern Knights, Ilia is almost certainly a matriarchy. Laws are probably skewed in the favor of women, too.

Probably irreligious. Not that they're incapable of piety, but they wouldn't have much time for it. For the non-mercenary Ilian population, most of the year would be spent on preparations for winter or taking care of the dependents of the mercenaries. Despite the support conversations pointing to the eldest sibling taking care of the family after their parents' deaths, leaving them unsupervised and going to war is simply retardation. Without services to ensure the care of the mercenaries' dependents, Ilia cannot survive as a society. Relatives would work best, but there'd be solutions for those without.

Despite what you might think, adults are usually competent. However bad you think your parents were, they could've done a lot worse. Unless, you know, they were child molesters or something.

A society perpetually at war, of course, breeds hardier people. So does the harsh environment.

Enough luxury/time for arts, crafts, and the various other trappings of civilization? Highly doubtful to impossible. The first requirement to civilization is surplus food supplies.

Pegasus Knights get paid the big bucks, so it's more likely slender and petite women survived to pass on their genes. For males, it'd be balanced between combat viability and cold-weather mutations.

* * *

Notes on Sacae

Despite all their talk about honor and honesty, Sacaens are clearly capable of lying. One of the major tribes apparently turns on all the others in FE6. Actually, all humans are capable of lying and no society could function without lying. Japanese publishers clearly don't consult psychologists when they write this kind of bull.

What they were probably trying to convey was the importance of the spoken word in a nomadic society, as is the case in Mongolia. The written word means nothing. By the way, Sacae is, like Ilia, also a culture, not a civilization. The written word is one of the most important requirements of civilization. Urbanization and specialization are also necessary.

One should assume that Sacae is rife with intertribal conflicts, just like Mongolia of old. It breeds the kind of warriors who were able to conquer half the known world with such few numbers, horses, and the composite bow. In numbers, the Chinese should've bent them over the desk. In reality, the opposite happened. Intertribal conflict is one of the reasons.

Slow people and people who can't ride would be the first to go in Sacae. The support conversations suggesting that hunting and tracking is necessary for all Sacaens are bull. Mongolians have herds of domesticated animals. They practiced war on each other, not prey. Likely put in by Japanese writers who thought animism was a uniquely native American thing and wanted to incorporate that. Idiots can't distinguish between the two environments. Ah well. An understandable notion coming from a people who seem to believe high school is the epitome of Japanese life and harem the default option. Can't put any delusions past them. I swear, high schools ruin so many would-be decent mangas.

Likely a very insular and clannish/tribal people. Very proud, apparently, though one would be hard put to guess at what exactly they have to be proud of.

Some people seem to believe them representative of Japanese ways of warfare. They are, to the last one, retards and illiterates. The Japanese used massed peasant militia formations led by bands of heavily armored samurai. Horses were for samurai. Horse archers were always heavily armored samurai. Light swordsmen like myrmidons and swordmasters did not exist. In fact, before the invention of gunpowder, one would be hard put to find any semi-decent light swordsmen. They had the annoying tendency to die in droves and run, like peasant militia.

Bulgar would count as quite separate from the rest of Sacae. It seems to have some form of a civilization. There shouldn't be any lack of food supplies in some place like Mongolia barring criminal and deliberate mismanagement of resources or plague.

* * *

Notes on Lycia.

I imagine the writers were thinking of Switzerland (Cantons).

Between two powerful nations (Etruria and Bern) is not a good place to be. See Poland.

Lycia's famous for its knights, likely meaning that it's the most underdeveloped of all the civilized nations of Elibe. In general, the greater the influence of feudalism, the more of a shithole the nation is. Still, that's more civilization than Sacae and Ilia.

The lack of a king does not mean Lycia is any less of a dictatorship than the other nations are, though the writers set Lycia up to be some sort of a champion of freedom or something. Lilina becomes queen at the end of FE6.

There seems to be significant differences between cantons, though. Perhaps the writers think diversity=freedom. Not really, but I can see where they're coming from.

Being a kind of a federation, Lycian cantons are quite different from one another. Think America, for example. There is the third world (Mississippi) and there is the first world (Rhode Island).

Anyhow, there are Mississippi-like cantons such as Laus. Poorly run, rife with corruption, teeming with incest, and just insignificant.

Then there are Rhode Island-like cantons such as Ostia and Pherae. Though it's impossible that a noble as badly affected by Down's Syndrome as Eliwood obviously is can run a country in any sort of a competent manner, we'll posit that his ancestors did a better job. Productive and well-run.

While an environment like Laus's would produce hardy people (except for incest-related cases), it means nothing if the state isn't well-run. There's obviously no meritocracy involved in its rule, and likely the literacy rate is close to zero.

Then there's Ostia, which produces its own kind of hardy people but better-run. Frugality isn't a good trait in a society, though. It is greed that drives innovation.


	5. The Gambit

"I can hardly believe my eyes…."

"The dragons are back? Is… does that mean there will be another Scouring?"

The Great Hall held the council of the Lycian nobility.

It was far from packed. At least, it was not packed in the physical sense. It was packed with the stench of fear and disbelief, though.

The voices were subdued, for they had not gotten over the shock of seeing monstrosities that were supposed to be long dead. Monstrosities that ate, burned, crushed, killed, maimed, and all but massacred their peers.

"Attention, peers of the realm, the nobility of Lycia!" Hector shouted. "This is a war council, not a children's exchange of horror stories! Get your act together!"

"With all due respect, Lord Hector, we have just seen the dragons of legends in the flesh! Worse, they're on the Bernese side!" a noble shouted back.

"… On that matter, I have decided to reveal something to you all. I ask that you listen with an open mind. If you please, General Oswin." Hector said.

Kayeth thought that Oswin was an excellent choice. He was trusted by all, and would not be accused of hallucinations lightly.

"My Lords, and Ladies, I am honored to be in the presence of Lycia's nobility. I am now about to reveal, ah… information of the most sensitive and secretive matter." Oswin said, his low and gruff but clear voice ringing through the hall.

"This secret has something to do with dragons, I hope?!"

"It is, Marquess Remmy. Now, you remember, near twenty years ago, Marquess Uther died and for a few weeks, the heir apparent was nowhere to be found. Lord Hector was not on a diplomatic mission to Bern. Lord Hector, and I, and an army composed of Lord Eliwood's retainers, Lady Lyndis's retainers, and various others, were battling the Black Fang."

"What does the Black Fang have to do with dragons?!"

"Patience, Baroness Grey Heights. Now, many of you may know the Black Fang was a Bernese organization of assassins, and yes it was a powerful organization. Conservative estimates placed their number in the eighteen hundreds. What you may not have known was that it was suborned by a dark magician named Nergal, whose sole purpose was to open Dragon's Gate."

A huge uproar swept through the hall, as the nobles pointed out, with various degrees of outrage, that that was impossible. Everyone knew that Brammimond and Athos placed impossibly complex and powerful wards over them; they could not be broken.

"Silence! Order in the Council!" Hector screamed, and split the table in front of him in two.

The nobles stared at the wreckage, and piped down.

"As I was saying, this Nergal managed to open the Gate... twice."

"Why were we not informed of this? Such a threat should've been met with the full knowledge of the governments of the major nations!"

"Lord Kai, had you not seen the dragons today, would you not have said that opening the Gate was impossible and that I was a madman?"

It was a fair point. All of them knew that that would've been the response.

"Continuing with the tale-"

"There's more?!"

"Yes, Earl Falgrove. The first time the Gate was opened, it was closed almost immediately. The dragon that came through died. We found unexpected counsel and guidance when Lord Uther told us to seek a 'living legend'. That legend turned out to be Archsage Athos."

Another uproar burst from the assembly. Some were denouncing Hector and Oswin for heresy.

A blinding ray of light forced Kayleth, and everyone else, to close their eyes for a moment.

When the people opened their eyes again, Serra spoke. "My husband and my Lord are most emphatically not heretics! I tell you that Oswin is telling the truth, and I know this because I was part of that army!"

No one dared denounce the Archbishop as a heretic. Most likely because she was the ultimate authority on heresy in Lycia. If she felt like it, she could burn any one of them.

Oswin continued nonchalantly. "As I was saying, we had the help of the Archsage, and we found three of the Divine Weapons to use against Nergal, so dreadful was his power. However, with his dying breath, he used all remaining magical power to open the Gate once more. The dragons that emerged from it were slain by Lord Hector and Lord Eliwood."

"… So where are the Divine Weapons now? What happened to the Archsage?" It was another noble Kayleth didn't recognize, but his face had hints of hope etched in.

"The Archsage fell in battle, dying only after making sure that the dragons were dead. The Divine Weapons were restored to their rightful hiding places." Oswin answered.

"… It would be too much to ask that the Divine Weapons were hidden in Araphen, wouldn't it?"

"Regrettably, they are not anywhere near Araphen, and the locations are top-secret, for fear that Bernese agents may chance upon the information."

"So how does that knowledge help us?!"

It was time for Kayleth to speak up. This was the important part, and he had to sell it. "As you may have inferred… I was the tactician who led that army to victory. You know that my fame comes from the annihilation of the Black Fang and the success of the revolution against the then-King Desmond. Anyhow, some of you might have seen a few dragons killed today… with mortal arms."

"You're joking! Three Legions have been wiped out and five Legions are injured, some too fight! The exchange rate is too high!"

"Yes, the exchange rate is too high, but we know this: dragons can be slain, and to wipe out three of our Legions and incapacitate five Legions, they needed Bernese help. The question is, what do we do now?" Kayleth took in a deep breath. "Many of us will die, yes, but how can we make that sacrifice meaningful?"

"Get on with it, Count." It was a Lady Kayleth did not recognize. He was not surprised that at least some people seemed to be quite astute.

"Archbishop Serra will use the holy artifact, Heaven's Feel, to make our wounded walk again."

"Is that possible?"

"Apparently. We all know of the legends, and how the Saint herself used these artifacts. The dress was said to have healed a thousand men in instants after the siege of Turrakhal. It was given as a gift to Roland's wife, who in turn donated it to the Church."

"That's a legend! We can't rely on legends and fairy tales-"

"Are the dragons still legends in your mind, Baroness Isilder?" Hector said, silencing her.

"What's the matter then, why are our men still injured?" One of the Iron Lords said.

"The Archbishop's acolytes are preparing for the ritual as we speak. Now, I propose that, aside from select individuals who cannot leave, we draw lots to determine who stays."

The din of the uproar almost deafened Kayleth. The screeching and finger-wagging went on for nearly five minutes before Serra's magic caught their attention again.

"As I was going to explain, I see three choices. One, make Araphen the graveyard of the Lycian Alliance as a nation. Two, surrender. Three, have as many people escape as possible while dealing the Bernese army and more importantly the dragons as much damage as is possible. Now, I am quite certain the first two options do not appeal to any of you. With Lycia out of the picture completely, only Etruria can stand against Bernese might reinforced by dragons and the resources of Ilia and Sacae. The second option is not even up for consideration; we are the peers of the realm and it is the duty of our blood to wage war against the non-human, and especially our archenemies the dragons, no matter the cost."

Kayleth paused as the War Council took a moment to digest his words. He had purposely phrased his words in such a way that to suggest the first option would seem plain idiotic and to suggest the second option unacceptably disgraceful.

"Now, the third option is undoubtedly the only viable option we have. We must, while saving as many soldiers as possible so that Lycia remains a power to be reckoned with, kill as many dragons and Bernese soldiers as we can so that when Etruria's Mage Corps arrive, Bern will have been weakened enough that it is forced to sue for peace. We owe it to our ancestors, and more importantly our descendants, the chance to live in a world free of the tyranny of dragons!"

"Hear, hear!" Oswin shouted, and most of the Ostian nobility joined in on the chorus, followed by numerous others who didn't want to seem to be outdone in courage.

"After shifting through the combat data, Scouring history, and current statistics, I have determined that it would be best for three Legions of nobles and soldiers to remain behind. All members of Legio XVI will also remain, for they are the hardest-hitting troops we have. Essential trained crews of siege weapons, all Araphen Knights, Marquess Araphen, and Marquess Ostia will also remain. Ah, and so will I. Does anyone need me to explain the reasoning behind these choices?"

The hall was silent, though many exchanged uneasy glances. The three Legions staying was a decision on the tactical level, and none of them could claim to be as qualified as Kayleth was. That Legio XVI and the crews of siege weapons remain was obvious, since they had to inflict as much damage as possible with as few men as possible. Araphen Knights, Marquess Araphen, and Marquess Ostia had to stay for obvious reasons.

Kayleth did not need to mention, of course, that Araphen was to be their grave.

* * *

"Time," Kayleth said as his timepiece indicated midnight. "Begin the ritual."

The main square of the castle was packed with injured soldiers, and some of them were already dead. Kayleth had given the order that healing efforts should be concentrated on making as many people as possible able to walk and fight again and that the more seriously injured should be kept alive as long as possible until the ritual.

There were not enough healers and staves to keep all of them alive.

Serra's acolytes put the holy robe on her, and Serra began reading from the tome in her arms.

"The Tester is my Sword and Shield.

I am the vessel of He who Judges.

Praise be to He who Chooses.

For I have found acceptance.

Now, just as You have accepted me, oh Lord.

I beseech you to accept these brave soldiers who fight in Thy Name.

Miracle in healing, Light of my Pledge, cleanse my brothers and sisters, Heaven's Feel."

The ritual circles, painted in the blood of the injured, flared to life and cast a red light in the same form in the skies.

The light vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Kayleth checked on the soldier nearest him.

His wounds were still there.

"… Did we get the ritual wrong?" Matthew said.

"Impossible. You and I made sure that the ritual was right to every excruciating detail," Kayleth snarled, turning away to walk at a brisk pace toward the healers. "It was a mistake to put our hopes on a miracle. Prepare to administer final mercy to the seriously wounded. Drag their corpses out to the front row of the outer defenses. Their rotting bodies will make life unpleasant for Bern." Kayleth felt someone tug at his shoulder, "What?"

There was a soft glimmer of light, centered around Serra's dress shimmering as though a thousand stars had their lights plucked and melded into it.

"Kayleth, your eye," Rebecca said.

"What about it?" Kayleth said, annoyed. "It's been gone for a long time."

Then, he blinked.

"What the hell?" Kayleth blocked his right eye.

He could still see.

"Impossible. Priscilla, your mirror, now," Kayleth snapped.

"Your left eye's open," Priscilla said.

"You're imagining things. There's no way," Kayleth snatched her mirror.

Both of his eyes were open.

Kayleth headed over to the area where the most seriously injured soldiers were placed. The smell of blood and gore was pungent.

He slapped a soldier, no more than fifteen years old with a lot of dried blood around his abdomen and forced him awake.

"Mm?" the soldier woke up slowly.

"Priscilla, diagnostics."

Priscilla looked over the soldier, a farm boy currently employed as an archer unless Kayleth was mistaken. "Kayleth, you're making the boy nervous. Go away."

"I'm not a boy!" the boy said, then blushed as Priscilla lifted his clothes. "Erm, my Lady."

"The boy's nervousness has nothing to do with your ability to diagnose him. What I'm asking is whether his body is alright. Though, by that outburst, I suspect he's fine. By the way, you're also making him nervous."

"Nonsense. Why would he be nervous of me?" Priscilla said, examining the boy's stomach.

"It's called biology. You might want to study it. Assuming we survive. Boy, nonessential personnel are being evacuated by the tunnels. Go."

"Are we abandoning the city?"

Kayleth raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised that such a young farm boy had the temerity to talk balk to him. He was amused.

"… My Lord?"

"Ah. Well, since I have nothing better to do… yes. Only proven veterans and volunteers willing to die will remain behind. The city is lost. I cannot permit the complete destruction of the Lycian Alliance as a viable geo-political and military force."

"So you're going to give Bern a Pyrrhic victory, buy time for Etruria's forces, and strengthen Lycia's negotiating position at the conclusion of this war."

"… Very clever, boy. You know how to read?" the boy nodded. "If you understood that, off you go. No sense in getting educated and unblooded boys killed."

"So… miracles appear to exist."

Kayleth rolled his eyes. "Serra, I told you not to sneak up on me like that. What are you? Five? Go rest. I'm sure your magic reserves are exhausted."

"Yes, mother."

"Please, I have cuter daughters. To bed. Now."

* * *

The dreaded dawn came.

The outer defenses of castle Araphen did not lose their deadliness just because of the presence of dragons. On the contrary, the lack of defenders and the sheer numbers of the invaders saw to the highest kill-death ratio Kayleth could reasonably hope for.

Siege weapons spewed out their projectiles until the bitter end, when Bernese forces surrounded the makeshift fortifications they were housed in and slaughtered the crews. They had orders to take the siege weapons intact whenever possible, to be used against the castle in due course.

Bunker after bunker was cleared, whether by Bernese forces storming them or dragons burning them.

Kayleth watched with fierce pride as mere two hundred defenders fought against thousands. Of those two hundred, almost eighty even made it back to the castle. Kayleth ordered evacuations whenever he thought a position was becoming too tenuous to hold.

Magi were especially devastating when casting from the prepared magic circles. Magical fire consumed scores of Bernese lives before Paladins were sent out to rescue the spellcasters and squirrel them back to the castle.

Erk knew it was time, and professed his love to Priscilla for the last time. His wife was dragged away in tears by a stoic Oswin, who nodded at Erk in salute of the sacrifice he was about to make.

Kayleth said, "All forces. Go."

Lycian agents tipped over the barrels of oil that were to spread throughout the outer fortifications. They hurried back to the castle, unwilling to be caught outside by the destruction Erk was about to unleash from the center of the outer defenses.

Erk was in an innocuous-seeming bunker in the middle of the fortifications. It had been cleared of Lycian defenders, after all. However, the Bernese had no way of knowing that it had a second floor, just big enough for Erk to sit in comfortably in his specially prepared magic circle.

Erk said his goodbyes, to his family, and his friends.

He then invoked the ancient ritual, the words altered slightly to fit him better. It was to be his last communion with nature and the spirits, after all. His voice was deep, measured, and solemn.

"I am a Sage, one of the heirs to Humanity's magical legacy.

A practitioner always walks the line between life and death.

Long have I walked that path.

I have seen into the heart of this World.

I have reached out across the Stars, and felt their embrace.

I am Erk, a Master of the Anima.

Fire of my Pledge, obey me this one last time.

I claim this portion of Time and Space, no more than a blink in the order of the Cosmos.

This is my world now… and in my world, one is Judged by Fire.

Therefore… Perdition."

With the last syllable of the spell, the world around Erk exploded in sorcerous fire, whipped into a frenzy by the oil that had just been spilled.

Priscilla screamed in dismay and sorrow. Kayleth glanced at her and sent a look at Matthew, who proceeded to drag her away.

Kayleth forced himself to continue watching, for to do any less was to demean Erk's willing sacrifice.

A full Legion of Bernese soldiers and five dragons were caught in the apocalyptic flames. Kayleth sighed in relief. Erk's sacrifice had been worthwhile, after all. It was a magnificent funeral pyre. Erk had done him proud.

"Abandon the walls, back to the citadel!" Kayleth shouted. He remembered his promise to Erk: that he'd look after his children. Erk didn't need to force him to make that promise. The pitiful state of Priscilla's crying form was more than enough.

* * *

Bernese soldiers approached the walls cautiously. There was no telling what traps the Red Baron had set for them, after all.

The storming of the castle walls was surprising uneventful. Aside from a few standard traps and the fire of the artillery based in the citadel, there was no danger.

Dragon General Narshen grinned. He ordered two Legions forward to pillage the castle before getting on to the citadel. Soldiers needed to relieve stress, after all.

The soldiers obeyed. Loot was one of the main reasons to join the army.

The soldiers found the houses curiously devoid of human life, but there were things worth taking.

Narshen frowned as one of the house collapsed on itself, burying half a dozen soldiers who had went in.

Four, then six, then ten houses did the same thing before Narshen discovered a pattern. Whenever any more than four soldiers went in a house, the house was collapsed.

Kayleth knew that the Bernese army could not resist looting the castle. He was a military man, after all, and had learned to expect and even encourage certain behaviors in armies.

The structural integrity of all buildings in castle Araphen had been weakened yesterday. Kayleth took a number of volunteers, and there were more than enough volunteers, to collapse the house completely from the inside. It would be too obvious to have the state of the structural integrity of the houses visible from the outside. All volunteers would die upon completion of their missions.

Bishop Renault was coordinating the surprise. His magic was now concentrated on detecting life forms and informing the volunteers when to collapse the houses. A lifetime of mercenary work made him as good a second as any Kayleth could hope to have.

Narshen's screaming availed him little. The soldiers took the sound of the houses collapsing to be the sound of artillery. They took the sight of houses collapsing to be the result of artillery fire. None but Narshen had a clear vision of the systematic collapse of every building Bernese troops set foot in.

Nearly three hundred Bernese soldiers died in collapsed houses. Renault prepared to return to the citadel, mounting his horse. He was exhausted from the massive expenditure of his magical powers coordinating the surprise.

A score of Wyvern Knights soared towards Renault. Narshen screamed that they would all be executed if they didn't bring him at least one man's head, and Renault was the only non-Bernese outside the citadel.

The Bishop fought valiantly and to the bitter end, downing four Wyvern Knights before the rest reached him. Even then, it took quite a few lance thrusts to finish Renault, and in the end only five of the twenty Wyvern Knights who had set out to slay him survived.

Kayleth saw this, and thanked humanity's God for the fantastic kill ratio. Their sacrifices were worthwhile. They would be avenged, probably.

* * *

Bernese troops started storming the eastern wing of the citadel.

Kayleth did not quite have the numbers to muster in order to present a successful defense of that wing, but that was fine.

After all, he had decided that the entire wing be a trap. According to Lucius, it would more than suffice.

Half a Legion's worth of Lycian defenders met the Bernese invaders.

Common knowledge stated that invaders needed three times the numbers to overwhelm the defenders in a siege, but the Bernese had more than ten times the numbers.

Lucius nodded, and Raven joined the fray.

Kayleth knew what Lucius's wish was, and before he had left the defenses to Lucius, he swore that he would fulfill it. Lucius was a kind and gentle soul, his disposition even affecting people like Kayleth and Raven. Kayleth thanked him for that, and Lucius thanked him for his services and his donation to the orphanage.

Far fewer words were exchanged with Raven. He only wanted to stay by Lucius's side to the end, as Lucius did, and for Kayleth to make sure Priscilla got out alive.

Raven knew it was nearly time, and knew that he shouldn't worry about his life. It was already given. His left hand, his shield-arm, had an axe instead of a shield. He led the defenders back into the fight with a vigor unmatched by anything the Bernese could muster.

His wounds were trivial at first, a minor collection of cuts and bruises. As he progressed through the hallway, he garnered more serious injuries.

It didn't matter. He had slain dozens of Bernese soldiers. He had been ordained by Kayleth to draw as many soldiers as possible to the east wing of the citadel before Lucius's sacrifice. Raven was, if nothing else, a man of his sword and word.

A spinning hand-axe struck his neck, and Raven staggered.

That stagger was all that the Bernese troops needed.

Lucius shed tears for his Lord, even as he finished preparing his ritual spell.

"I am a vessel of the Divine.

My heart is fueled by Faith.

My body is sustained by the Light.

I found my Purpose, and Served in the name of our God and our Saint.

I was given Power by He who Giveth.

I now give it back to He who Taketh.

I have been Tested by He who Tests.

I have been found Worthy by He who Sits the Throne.

So, as I pray, Light of Judgment!"

From outside, on top of one of the myriad watchtowers that Araphen possessed, Kayleth saw a blinding ray of light, almost as wide in radius as the eastern wing of the citadel and growing even bigger.

A deep rumble, like that of an earthquake, foreshadowed the complete destruction of the eastern wing of the citadel.

He registered the forces he had lost there, and also that the rubble made the passage impassable.

"All survivors at the eastern wing, regroup and recuperate in the throne room. Five thousand gold to the man who recovers Bishop Lucius's body."

His plans were going better than planned. The magic of bygone eras were even more potent than he had expected. The citadel had yet to be breached, and he had many more surprises waiting for the would-be victors.

* * *

The central tower of Araphen's citadel bustled with activity as archers and siege weapons' crews bustled about in their respective duties.

Kayleth had ordered Dorcas, Geitz, Rebecca, and Wil, under no uncertain terms, to defend the siege weapons to the last breath. They were only allowed to retreat when the siege weapons were taken out of the equation or there were so few siege weapons left that there was no point to defending the tower any further.

The Red Baron had whispered words of encouragement to Dorcas and Rebecca. He knew Geitz and Wil well enough, too, but not as well as he knew Dorcas and Rebecca. Kayleth promised Dorcas that if he survived, as Dorcas insisted he must, that he would take care of Natalie and his children.

He also promised Rebecca to look out for Roy and Wolt, swearing that he loved Rebecca as he loved Alice and that he would watch out for them as though they were his own flesh and blood. Rebecca admitted that she might have been replacing Dan with Kayleth, too, enough that it played a significant part in venturing out of her village all those years ago to serve Eliwood.

Kayleth chuckled at this, informing her that he was one of the best students of humanity, and that this was quite obvious to him ever since he found out, later on the journey, that Rebecca had an older brother who set out on an adventure. That seemed to ease her nerves a little at least.

Geitz shrugged off Kayleth's worries, saying that it would take more than a flying lizard to survive his axe. Wil was assured by Kayleth's promises for Wolt and more than a little amused by the reminiscence of the circumstances under which they had met nearly two decades ago: almost as dire as the current circumstances were.

As the woman in charge of the defenses of the central tower, Rebecca swore that she would die before betraying Kayleth's trust. The siege weapons would only be silenced over her cold, dead, and unmoving body. She would even the odds, as much as possible, for Roy and Wolt. In the process, she would avenge Dan, or Dart, for she had heard from Kayleth that he was slain in Ilia.

The others had similar concerns, and vowed to give a future to their loved ones. Wil would stand by his wife to the end, and give Wolt a chance. Dorcas's sons were in the Pheraen citadel guards, and Dorcas knew that he had to balance the scales here and now. Geitz thought of Geese, and swore that the war would not reach the Western Isles.

The central tower was under attack, and it was a fierce attack. A flight formation of dragons had swooped in three times in an attempt to destroy the siege weapons stationed there. It was driven off each time by a hail of arrows, ballistae, and thunder magic.

Then, the dragons came in for a fourth run, and they had passengers.

Dorcas and Geitz led the axemen in abandoning their bows in favor of their axes. The armor Knights joined the fray.

Dorcas fought at the front of the line, heedless of the dangers to his person, and intent on slaying those who may endanger his family. The Bernese soldiers were appalled by the fury of the axeman, and concentrated on bringing down this terrible threat.

A concentrated volley of projectiles struck Dorcas and yet he went on, for if there was one thing Kayleth ensured, it was that soldiers of Legio XVI were well-equipped.

Dorcas took a lance to the chest armor, and grinned, for the chest armor was the strongest section of any set of armor. He replied with his master-crafted silver axe, and his backswing claimed two more Bernese lives. Dorcas beheaded an archer and narrowly evaded the attack of a Sage, carving his body in half in retaliation.

He went on until his axe got stuck in a General's armor and he couldn't quite pull the axe free in time to block the sword of a nearby Bernese officer who stabbed him in the in the left shoulder blade.

Fortunately, the General had a usable killer axe, and Dorcas was a great fan of the usable. The Bernese officer was unpleasantly surprised by Dorcas's proficiency in handling swordsmen.

The torrent of savage axe swings claimed nearly two scores of Bernese lives before being slowed by an arrow to the face.

The arrow was followed by two javelins and three blasts from elfire tomes.

However, the Bernese had concentrated too much on Dorcas, and the rest of them were mopped up by the other defenders. Lycian casualties were few. The Bernese landers were repelled.

It was no time to cheer, though. Two dragons landed on the edge of the tower, and started to make their way to the siege weapons in the rear.

Rebecca ordered the siege weapons to keep firing and nodded at Wil for a concentrated attack on the one of the dragons. It took time to get a ballista's aim straight after having fired at the heavens, though.

Geitz met one of the dragons in single combat. It was supported by two Bernese spellcasters and three Wyvern Knights, but that was no matter. Geitz was a warrior born. Two arrows downed two of the Wyvern Knights, after which he threw the bow in one of the spellcasters' face. His axe claimed the remaining wyvern knight and the other spellcaster, while its backswing beheaded the stunned spellcaster.

The soldiers did manage to harm Geitz, though, with a javelin to his left elbow and a blast of magical fire. Geitz grimaced, and shrugged off the pain, charging at the dragon.

He dived underneath the swipe of the dragon's forepaws and the lunge of its cavernous mouth. As he slid beneath the dragon, he found himself at the unarmored underbelly of the beast, and swung his axe in where the heart was supposed to be.

The dragon, in its death throes, collapsed on top of Geitz.

No man can survive getting crushed by dragons.

As for the other dragon, Rebecca and Wil dispatched it just in time.

The dragons' landing caused a significant disruption in the Lycian battle-line on the central tower, though. Dragons and wyverns disgorged more Bernese troops on the ground. Wil knew that it was time to join the fray.

It was as though Wil could not miss. His arrows struck Bernese officers' hearts, faces, or throats each time. Wil's brains were filled with Kayleth's incessant ranting from years ago, something to do with 'kill the officers! Ignore everyone else, they're for the others, but kill the officers! Damn it Wil, the officers! Get that son of a whore with the plumed helmet you idiot! Fancy head pieces!'

Still, there were far more invaders than there were defenders. Wil started using arrows as he would a dagger, and fired at point blank-range.

Rebecca screamed as a Wyvern Knight swooped in to lance Wil through the heart.

After a second that seemed like an eternity, Rebecca fought with renewed determination. A ballista bolt punctured the underbelly of Rebecca's third dragon that day. Another bolt slammed into one of the Bernese siege towers, sending dozens of Bernese soldiers to their deaths.

Then, the melee threatened to reach Rebecca.

"For Roy. For Wolt. For Wil. For Dan." Rebecca whispered her prayer. Then, she showed the Bernese troops why she was Ranger General of Pherae. Kayleth had always praised her for her superb rate of fire. She proved herself worthy of that praise as one after another Wyvern Knights were plucked from the skies, Bernese soldiers about to deliver killing blows found themselves unable to deliver those blows, and spellcasters died in the middle of casting.

Rebecca fired until she realized that she had one arrow left. She snarled in frustration, wishing that Kayleth had invented some sort of device to carry arrows with the belt. She had to make do with a longsword that one of the soldiers had dropped.

The Bernese soldiers were glad to see she was out of arrows. She realized from their looks that they meant to take her alive and, as was more than likely, rape her. Rebecca smirked, for it seemed like she still had the looks. They underestimated her potential with the sword, and they would be right to do so.

But then… before Roy's formal training as a swordsman some years ago, he practiced with Rebecca. Kayleth had always insisted that an archer have a failsafe option when out of arrows.

She was glad she took his advice as she carved into the surprised Bernese soldiers. Four went down before they had the chance to rally and coordinate a counterattack.

Three lances pierced Rebecca's body. She knew that her stature left her at a disadvantage when it came to reach, and that disadvantage was exacerbated when she fought against spearmen. With the last of her strength, she pulled the lance in her stomach deeper and tore out the throat of the spearman with her sword.

Rebecca saw that the siege engines were still firing, and smiled. Her body was tossed over the battlements along with the lance lodged in her.

The next three minutes saw to the utter annihilation of all Lycian forces on the central tower.

Kayleth was informed of this development, and ordered the activation of the massive trap that was the top floor of the central tower. The victorious Bernese soldiers, numbering about three scores left, plunged to their deaths as the ground gave way. A hasty reconstruction project had replaced the floor right below the top floor to be a standardized if crudely prepared spear trap, with jagged blades jutting out all over the floor. There was just enough room for six horses and three men to pull down a weakened tile and collapse the top floor.

Said six horses and three men died, and Kayleth saluted their sacrifice. Fifty-three Bernese soldiers accompanied them to the afterlife.

* * *

The northern wing of the Araphen citadel was falling.

But the defenders were putting up a fierce resistance.

Kayleth's heart soared as Heath charged a dragon, in a manner so spectacularly foolhardy and outright crazy that Kayleth thought Vaida herself would never have done it, and succeeded in driving a spear down its throat.

Only, that created an opening for the dragon's wing-mate, which tore through Hyperion's left wing.

Heath made a desperate attempt to mend the wing in time with liberal application of a bottle of elixir, and the attempt, to everyone's surprise, paid off. Hyperion was irrevocably crushed by the landing, but Heath survived, a little dazed.

As Bernese ranged-troops fired at Heath, Legault slipped out of the man-made cave Kayleth had laborers carve into the side of the hill which overlooked the northern entrance to the citadel. So did twenty mounted knights of Lycia. The Bernese were taken completely by surprise.

Kayleth wasn't surprised that the Bernese sent reinforcements immediately. Heath and Legault were doomed.

Still, Heath was Heath and Legault was Legault. Scores of Bernese soldiers attacked, expecting easy prey, only to find that the hunter was the hunted.

After five minutes of desperate combat, the Bernese brought a dragon, the biggest one Kayleth had seen yet. Kayleth's head throbbed madly as he watched both of them die to the dragon's teeth and talons.

The dragon was injured, but not enough to die. Kayleth sighed and climbed back down the ladder. The northern tower was lost, too, anyways. He nodded at the twenty laborers at their station and swiftly went down the stairs.

Twenty seven Bernese soldiers and an injured dragon died as the spiked trapdoors attached to the walls, which the Bernese had mistakenly assumed to be anti-siege-ladder defensive measures, were brought up to enclose the tower from the top and run through the invaders with hundreds of iron spikes. There were no survivors.

Scores of Lycian soldiers, led by Nino, Jaffar, and primarily Wallace, fought off the Bernese soldiers trying to breach the northern gates of the citadel. A siege ram had forced the gate open, but there wasn't enough room for the Bernese to maneuver freely.

Thirty Praetorians pushed their way through, and started ravaging Lycian forces.

"Retreat, regroup on top of the stairs!" cried Wallace.

As for himself, Wallace held the line, grinning madly and spinning his massive weapons around. He knew this to be his last battle, and he would give everything he had.

A Warrior charged Wallace with a double-edged battle-axe. He drove his lance through the man's face before the battle-axe was brought into play.

Wallace's chained axe swung around to claim the heads of two more Preaetorians who tried to take advantage of his distraction and flank him.

An arrow embedded itself in Wallace's shin, but it was no great impediment. Wallace had no intention of going anywhere. He chuckled as he slaughtered his way through six more Praetorians and the Sniper who had shot him.

Finally, a worthy foe presented itself, and Wallace did what he did best. He stood his ground as one of the dragon's talons ripped his left arm off, and took advantage of the opening it gave him to drive his lance through the dragon's throat.

The dragon gurgled as Wallace's head spun, dizzy from the trauma of losing his left arm. The Praetorians charged again, and Wallace tossed his axe into the face of one. He bludgeoned to death another with his armored right gauntlet before five blasts of magical fire engulfed him.

Kayleth had arrived just in time to oversee the evacuation of the section, and even he was appalled by the amount of hurt Wallace had just dished out.

"Ranks, rise and address!"

The ranks of red Bernese armor gathered and tightened around the bottom of the stairs, locking their shields and advancing slowly through the hail of projectiles that the Lycians launched at them.

As the Bernese ranks reached the top of the stairs, the soldiers in the middle column were swept to their feet, some of them dying in the violent and slashing winds summoned by Nino, currently the greatest practitioner of the anima alive in Elibe.

At the head of the counter-charge was Jaffar, the greatest Assassin alive and perhaps the best there ever was save for the Old Man on the Mountain.

Jaffar emerged out of a convenient hole that was built for the Marquess to sneak about when visiting his mistresses. For the first time in his life, Kayleth sincerely thanked human nature.

Jaffar didn't go for killing blows; he went for the convenient ones. All that mattered was to decrease Bernese fighting strength for as long as possible while his wife prepared the spell that would annihilate the Bernese.

Therefore, he went for right hands, feet, eyes, arteries, wrists, and obviously the crotch.

Kayleth saw five dragons assemble at the back of the Bernese ranks. The Lycians were terrified, and were falling.

"Nino, I will find them, and it was my honor to know you…" Kayleth hesitated, wondering what Nino was to him, "my friend. I'll find your children."

It was a promise he made many years ago. He doubted it would ever be fulfilled, but he couldn't say that to Nino.

Nino didn't look back, intent on her magic. "I know you will. Tell my children I love them, that I am sorry, and that their parents died to secure their future."

"Retreat!" cried Kayleth, blowing his battle-horn. "Get back, get behind cover!"

Eventually, all of the Lycians had fled and only Nino and Jaffar remained. The Bernese troops approached Jaffar cautiously from many different angles.

Jaffar stood his ground. He only needed Nino to finish her spell.

A dragon was making its way towards them, Jaffar saw, and he beckoned at Nino to make haste.

Nino felt the ritual circle ready, and began to chant her aria quietly, softly.

"I am a Sage, an heir of the magical legacy of Mankind

I was made an orphan when I was but a babe.

The murderers of my blood made me a slave.

Yet, I found friends, and even family.

I even found freedom and love.

I have no regrets.

So I beseech thee, the Free Winds of Elibe.

Heed my cry, this one last time.

Kill the ancient Enemies of my kind… Divine Wind!"

A torrent of bone-cutting and stone-cracking wind hurled into the citadel from the skies.

From behind one of the pillars, Kayleth saw that the northern wing of the citadel had collapsed. No one was getting through that way. A trio of dragons that had been prodding the Bernese forces forward were also caught in the trap of stone.

Kayleth allowed himself a moment, just one moment, to commend the souls of his comrades who had just sacrificed themselves.

Then he dashed towards the southern wing to direct the last-ditch defense of Araphen. The turning point if he was lucky. The fall of Araphen even if he was lucky.

* * *

"More wood!" Hector shouted.

Oswin grunted as the gate shook again, his back against it. "They must be using dragons for battering rams."

"It's time," Kayleth said, noting the spiderweb of cracked wood. "Armored knights of Ostia, stand to! Archers and magi form up! Light the fires! You damned peasants, pull for what you're worth! Heave!"

The gates went down with a crash like thunder and two dragons roared as they advanced on Lycian lines.

"Steady, steady!" Kayleth shouted at the front ranks.

"Release!" Matthew hissed at the laborers.

The ropes were cut off and the wooden trapdoor sprung forward like a catapult from above. The pikes embedded into it killed the two dragons instantaneously.

"Charge!" Oswin roared.

The Bernese tried to get around the dragons' corpses and the Lycians fought savagely to deny them that limited space. The Bernese were unable to form a beachhead, and every Bernese soldier who slipped past the dragons found themselves facing ten or more Lycians.

More dragons was the answer, and the newcomers dragged their dead comrades outside.

"Fire at their eyes! Fire at their underbellies! Fire at their crotch! Hurt them!" Kayleth shouted at the troops. "They're just dragons! They can be killed! We killed them a thousand years ago, we can kill them again! Kill them!"

A dragon roared in agony as Oswin's chained axe sliced a gaping wound in its front legs. The noise was deafening, but one of the stable boys who had volunteered to remain behind got through and dumped burning oil on its eyes.

Kayleth grimaced as the injured dragon's breath engulfed the boy. Recognizing the source of his distress, Elaine ventured forward to slice his head off with her claws.

The Baron noted that the rate of attrition was becoming unacceptable. Zephiel had reformed the Bernese lines and were approaching with more caution. Though the Ostian armored Knights were superior to their Bernese counterparts in static defense, the Bernese employed dragons as shock troops.

The world was an unfair place and one might as well get used to it.

"All forces, fall back!" Kayleth said. "Back to the main hall, fall back! Matthew, you know what to do."

Matthew nodded, and took a moment to shake Kayleth's hands. Kayleth raised an eyebrow. "For luck," the Assassin explained.

Kayleth snorted, "Your luck? Now I'll have your misfortune with me!"

"Not for you," Matthew snorted. "Luck for me."

"You will be remembered… and avenged, should it prove necessary."

"That goes without saying!" Matthew grinned. "What else do we pay you for? Now go!"

Kayleth got a dozen soldiers to help him drag Hector back from the front lines. Serra putting him to sleep helped.

Lycian troops fell back in a pre-coordinated and orderly fashion. The front two ranks of armored knights and support troops remained behind to buy them time.

Kayleth spied on Zephiel coming through a little behind the front ranks of Bern. Not for the first time in the past few days, he prayed to whatever deity that was out there that his plan worked.

Hidden amongst the pile of the dead, Matthew rose a little behind the King. He was disguised as a Praetorian, using armor scavenged off some of the first casualties.

"Yes!" Kayleth hissed as Matthew approached cautiously.

The woman clad in a dark hood, however, stopped Zephiel. Zephiel turned.

Matthew knew he was discovered, and abandoned all pretense at stealth. Three Praetorians around him died without knowing.

A dragon pounced on him, and he evaded narrowly only to find himself surrounded by a dozen angry Praetorians.

Kayleth forced himself to watch, and reminded himself that deities have a terrible habit of disappointing people.

"Close the gates."

The last of the Lycian cavalry remaining in Araphen charged down the length of the southern hallway at Kayleth's signal to buy time for the gates to be closed and fortified.

"Kayleth, I don't see Matthew," Serra whispered as Kayleth was being armored.

"Matthew has failed. He is dead," Kayleth said, causing Serra to gasp. "Someone near Zephiel… he knows how to detect Assassins. I fear Hector and Oswin are our last chance. How are the troops?"

"Ready to die."

"That's all I ask. You remember your promise, though? To Oswin? To me?"

Serra snarled, "Yes… if they fail, you'll grovel like a dog and I will also surrender as befitting of my station."

"You forgot the important part. We will do so because that would be the only viable method to avenge our comrades and ensure the safety of their children," Kayleth growled. "Now go heal some of our soldiers. I'm busy."

"Yes, my Lord," Serra muttered sullenly.

Kayleth turned around, looking for a man he had once sought to kill. He found him being armored by his page, surrounded by his guards.

"Marquess Araphen," Kayleth said, pushing past the guards. "This is your last chance. Are you sure you don't want to escape? I mean, you're hardly known as a warrior and your age-"

The old man rolled his eyes. "My will entrusting Araphen to my nephew should be enough. I know I'm not a warrior, but I am Marquess Araphen. If this citadel falls, so will I, as have countless generations of my ancestors have done against the Bernese."

"This is not just the Bernese. There're dragons. The realm would be more stable with the actual Marquess alive, not a nephew who claims to have your will."

Marquess Araphen shrugged, getting the last of his bracers strapped on. "Well, you and I both know that if it comes to that then Zephiel intended to annex Araphen anyways."

"Hmph. As you will. Third row, left flank. Hold the line."

"Understood, tactician," the Marquess grunted. "Soldiers of Araphen, to me!"

There were pitifully few soldiers of Araphen left to obey that order. Kayleth counted about three score soldiers left, and he knew a little more than a third of them personally.

This was not going to end well.

"The gates won't hold much longer!" Oswin shouted.

Kayleth hurried over to where Hector lay and started pouring water on him. He did not wake up. The Baron started yanking at his beard and slapping him.

"Wuh! What're you doing!" Hector said, startled. The months of abuse he suffered at Kayleth's hands during the campaign against Nergal made him unable to hit back.

"You were injured, you were healed, it's time to wake up. Oh, Matthew's dead. Well, it doesn't matter. Unless you win, we'll all be dead soon enough. So get up, and lead them," Kayleth rattled off, helping Hector to his feet.

"Matthew's dead?"

"Failed to assassinate Zephiel. It's fine. You can avenge him. After you kill the dragons that will batter this door down."

"Get Serra and Priscilla out of here."

"No need. If you win, we'll escape together. If you lose, we'll surrender. Either way, Serra, Priscilla, and I will live."

"How come you get to live?" Hector growled. Lycian troops saluted him as he walked past them to the front row.

"Pfft. You expect me to die before having my vengeance?"

The gate splintered to pieces as two dragons forced their way through.

"Firing discipline!" Kayleth screamed as the soldiers panicked and hurled everything they had at the dragons. "Aim for their weaknesses! Kill, kill, kill!"

Then, the dragons retreated. The Bernese were not going to make the same mistake of blocking the way with their bulky corpses.

"Steady… steady!" Kayleth shouted.

Bern's Praetorians stepped through, covered by shieldbearers.

"Iron Lords of Ostia, charge!" Oswin roared.

Fourteen heavily armored figures crashed into Bernese lines with a resounding crash of steel on steel. The final battle had begun in earnest.

"Don't go beyond the threshold!" Kayleth shouted, seeing the three hooded dragon-men. He had been observing these creatures all day and knew that they maintained human form when they were not fighting. They were also weaker than the pure dragons that he had defeated at the Dread Isle, possibly even weaker than Ninian was.

A thousand years and then some ago, something about the magiks wrought into the Divine Weapons triggered a major realignment of the natural forces of the earth. Ever since then, the dragons were unable to maintain their original forms for long. Their human forms, on the other hand, were sustainable. That was why they had Dragonstones. That was why Bern could not wipe out the defenders yet.

Several hooked lances shot out from the second rank of the Bernese, and two Iron Lords were dragged into the Bernese lines before Kayleth had the chance to blink twice. Both of them were executed by enemy magi.

Apparently Kayleth no longer had the monopoly on parlor tricks and the unexpected.

"Watch out for those hooks!" Hector shouted, carving through the hooked lances with his Wolf Beil.

Suddenly, the front ranks of the Bernese parted as though they were receding tides. It revealed dozens of magi .

"Kill them!" Kayleth shrieked at the second and third rows.

Magical fire rained at the Iron Lords. Kayleth had enough time to kick and hurl three soldiers in the second row to the first to serve as meat-shields for his valuable Iron Lords. The bombardment lasted a little more than ten seconds.

Six Iron Lords and fifteen other soldiers had fallen.

"Medic!" Kayleth shouted, pointing at what was left of the first row. "Second and third rows to the front!"

Praetorians rushed into the hall once more and the tactician knew that there wasn't much time. If Zephiel did not appear, Hector would not be able to have his duel. That the Bernese had not asked them to surrender was telling. They had no orders to take prisoners.

Kayleth was always ready to die but that was predicated on the basis that he'd kick and scream while he was being dragged off to hell. There wouldn't be much kicking and screaming if Zephiel decided to slaughter everyone in the hall.

The second and third rows were decimated while Serra and Priscilla healed the Iron Lords and Hector. Kayleth saw Marquess Araphen die, two lances having pierced the vulnerable shoulder joint.

"Don't just sit there. Up and at them!" Kayleth said to the Iron Lords.

They obeyed, and were massacred by the three dragons. Oswin also fell, his lance lodged in a dragon's throat and his head in its stomach. Still, the flow of Bernese reinforcements slowed.

Serra took care of the other two weakened dragons, showing only cold fury and determination for revenge.

"Wait, back," Kayleth commanded the eight defenders remaining.

Sure enough, Zephiel walked through. He was surrounded by his Praetorians but here was the head of the serpent. Bern's capability to wage war didn't depend on him but here was the cause of the death of most of Kayleth's comrades. Kayleth had few friends to begin with; he could have counted them on two hands, in fact.

Again, Zephiel was accompanied by the hooded man. Kayleth now noticed that it was actually a young girl. For some reason, his body identified her to be the greater threat.

Narshen was at his side, too. Kayleth cursed his having to see his face. The day was sure to be ruined now that he saw that pathetic worm.

"Zephiel, I challenge you as head of the Lycian Alliance," Hector said in a calm and ringing tone. "Winner takes Araphen. Choose your champion."

Kayleth smirked. Hector would prevail against whatever champion Zephiel sent forth or Zephiel would refuse and prove himself a coward in front of his troops. Either way, it was a victory for Lycia.

"Ha! Why would His Majesty ever take up a duel when Bern is already victorious?" Narshen said.

"It's alright Narshen," Zephiel said, and unsheathed the broadsword on his back.

The color drained from Kayleth's face. Zephiel intended to fight. More alarmingly, the sword he had in his possession was the Eckesachs. He had no idea how but the thrice-damned traitor to humanity had a Divine Weapon in his hands. Why it was not reacting to the presence of dragons confounded him. The brat was besmirching the names of his forefathers by taking up that sword while allied with dragons. Kayleth knew it to be a matter of time before he started foaming at the mouth and screaming in indignation and rage.

Hector raised an eyebrow at Kayleth, startling him out of his reverie. He nodded. No matter the weapon, Hector was a god of war. Kayleth had to trust that Hector would not let him down.

The crowd made room and Hector charged. It was a horizontal blow that would force Zephiel off his footing.

To Kayleth's shock, Zephiel parried.

Hector had been fighting for hours, and relatively old. Zephiel had not been fighting at all, and relatively young.

"Hector, broken arrow!" Kayleth shouted.

Hector did not reply, and with a grim determination charged again. Kayleth sighed. He had told Hector that he could not win. Hector decided to take that as his having to abandon all defense for the faint glimmer of hope that he would hurt Zephiel.

Some people said that the best defense was a strong offense. Kayleth thought one should note that everyone who said that had the annoying habit of dying.

Zephiel parried, and used his momentum to stab Hector in the stomach.

The Lycians' cry of dismay was drowned out by the cheers of the Bernese.

"Wait, wait!" Kayleth shouted. "We surrender!"

Zephiel turned to look at him, as though noticing for the first time that he was there. "Surrender? There's no need for prisoners."

Kayleth was appalled. "This is the Archbishop of Ostia, and this is a Countess of Etruria! To kill them would be a declaration of war on the Church and Etruria!"

"They'll oppose me anyways," Zephiel said. "Guards, kill them. Bring the traitor to me alive."

To Kayleth's dismay, Priscilla and Serra charged as soon as Zephiel told his guards to kill them. They meant to at least take Zephiel down before dying.

The hooded girl next to Zephiel transformed into the biggest dragon Kayleth had ever seen. Priscilla and Serra's assault bounced off her, as harmless as a mosquito's bite was to bears.

The dragon's breath, a strange color that Kayleth could not quite believe was natural dragon fire, obliterated the two. The dragon then turned back into her human shape.

Blinded by the rage he had been bottling for weeks, Kayleth charged with the rest of the Lycian defenders.

Zephiel's sword carved through Elaine's neck, but Kayleth jumped just in time. In his right hand was a spiked knuckle, sure to cause death to the helmetless Zephiel.

The King's bodyguards beat him down, took away his weapon, and started kicking him.

"Traitor!" Kayleth roared. "Traitors to humanity! Have you no shame, allying with dragons?!"

The beating ceased, and Kayleth saw Zephiel bend down.

He lunged forward, knowing that it only took a brisk snap of the neck to kill a man. He was beaten down for his troubles.

"Why? What's so bad about dragons? They're smarter and stronger than humans are. What gives us the right to destroy them?" Zephiel said.

"They're animals. They would use you all as slaves, as they tried to do a thousand years ago they shall try again!"

"More to the point, what's so good about humans? Greed, jealousy, lust, treachery… at least dragons are more honest about their intentions."

"It is human to be greedy, to be jealous, to lust, to betray," Kayleth snarled. "We are free to do so. I thought I'd taught you that. You were supposed to free us of the cycle. The revolution was supposed to change humanity as a whole!"

"It's people like you, and father, who drew me this conclusion," Zephiel said. "We'd be better off under the yolk of dragons. But I won't kill you just yet, my Count… I'll have you watch as your beloved human civilization is torn asunder. I'll have you live to see your family butchered in front of you. Then, maybe you'll understand."

"… Understand that you've gone mad? I always knew Hartmut's line had a streak of delusion, delusion of grandeur that is. To think that it is actually a mental illness."

"Take them away to the dungeons," Zephiel said. "Keep this one alive."

"I'll kill you!" Kayleth screamed, kicking at the guards who tried to take him away. "You think you can kill people I care for, threaten to kill people I care for, and get away with it?! Who do you think you're dealing with?! I'm Kayleth of Winterfell! I'm the Red Baron! I'll kill you if I have to return as a ghost and haunt you! You hear me?! You'll regret leaving me alive you delusional boy! I'll have your sister fed to the dogs and I swear on the old gods the new God and all the gods that I will erase your damned existence! Not a single record will mention you, not a single soul will remember that you even existed, and I will tear down all that you have done! No!"

The dragon-girl approached him, and when she touched his head, he finally understood why Zephiel had kept him alive.

Kayleth mustered his mental defenses. He might not have the active magical power of his mother, but he'd inherited and trained in magical resistance.

He lost consciousness, and withdrew into his mindscape.

He found himself surrounded by thousands of his clones. An army of his clones defended the seven layers of walls at Winterfell.

His clones laughed at the lone dragon approaching them, mighty though it was in size.

Ropes twanged as siege weapons released their load. A few rounds hit, but had no visible effect on the dragon.

"That's not an enemy we can defeat," his father said.

"That is an enemy we must defeat!" Kayleth snarled. "This mind contains too much sensitive information to allow into enemy hands."

"The western gate is breached!" one of him shouted.

"Collapse buildings, aim for its legs!"

"Fire! Fire in the second circle!"

"We need to charge," Tetrark said.

Kayleth chuckled. "It's not enough that the parents I killed appear, but also my siblings? What kind of a damned mindscape is this?"

"The kind that generates such lack of concern that it drives his little sister into a jealous killing rage?" Stella suggested. Kayleth choked in disbelief. It'd been years since he even thought about Stella. His greatest failure as a man.

Stella was burned to a crisp. Kayleth's mother appeared instead. "That was a hallucination sent by the enemy. Now, it is clear that your defenses will be overwhelmed sooner or later."

As if on cue, the second wall was breached. Thousands of screaming Kayleths fled before the unearthly fire.

"This is a unique opportunity to look into the dragon's mindscape…" Kayleth realized. Mental magics left the assailant more vulnerable than usual to the victim.

"Leave the defenses to us," Sofiya urged. "She still has twelve levels to go."

"Remember, the information stored here is too dangerous. Feel free to collapse sections to stall her," Kayleth advised. "Off limits are only memories pertaining to Pearl. The locations of the Divine Weapons must be preserved to the end. It might also slow her down if we give her some information she's looking for. Prioritize."

"Who do you think taught you all that? We'll overload that dragon's mind with false data. It'll take weeks to sift through and find anything approaching usefulness," his father snapped. "Your last duty, please."

Kayleth drew on the power of the Black Hawk, the ring that contained the echoes of his ancestors' memories and personalities. A heavenly host of reinforcements descended from the skies, borne on black wings and armed with black steel. They glided forward to deny the enemy.

A portal was opened, and Kayleth jumped in without hesitation.

The first thought to cross his mind was that the mindscape was alien.

All he could see was darkness and what were perhaps snippets of memories.

One such snippet was what seemed to be the creation of this particular dragon.

Kayleth took measured steps towards the memory, taking care not to be detected for as long as possible.

He felt a familiar emotion, hate.

A particularly radiant dragon had been captured by other dragons, and they were performing a ritual of some sort.

He realized that the dragon was being transformed, and the dragon could only be the dragon whose mind he was intruding on.

The hate grew stronger. Kayleth continued to watch, out of morbid fascination more than any desire to discover weaknesses.

The hate couldn't match his own hate anyways.

The hate started growing again, and this time the growth was exponential.

Kayleth finally realized what the dragons were doing. The ritual was the retaliation against the creation of the Divine Weapons. The hatred from the ritual was matched only by the Divine Weapons' hatred for dragonkind.

It was the hatred for mankind, the culmination of the wills necessary to exterminate every last man, woman, and child on Elibe.

For the second time in his life, Kayleth wondered whether humanity would retain its hold on Elibe. This time, he counted the odds against them as unfavorable.

Darkness descended on him, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Pearl.

The tactician grimaced as he realized that the dragon had found him and his greatest weakness.

Even with the knowledge that he was in the dragon's mindscape, he screamed as Pearl was killed, repeatedly and each time more creatively.


	6. Fury

"… Pearl, is anything the matter?" Alice asked. The girl seemed particularly pale, and she was not yet blessed with the vitality that ran in her family's bloodline. However, it was early in the morning and the weather was quite pleasant.

"My pendant…" Pearl said, worry filling her face. "Papa is in danger. We must hurry."

"Danger? Bern's troops are supposed to be days away," Roy said.

"Yes… but this pendant. It is magically connected to papa's timepiece. We can sense each other when we have very strong emotions. Ah!" Pearl started screaming, clutching her forehead and her chest. Ward, who was leading the wyvern, turned in time to catch her.

"Pearl, what's wrong?" Madelyn said, a hint of alarm in her voice. She started analyzing.

"Get the cleric, Ellen, now!" Roy told Lance.

"No! Don't bother. Get mama," Pearl said, trembling as though she were freezing. "And Roy, we must pick up the pace. All is wrong at Araphen."

"What is Kayleth feeling?" Alice asked, taking Pearl in her arms.

Pearl took several deep breaths, and started coughing. Then, she lunged to the side and started vomiting.

"Pearl!" Lyn had just arrived. Pearl waved her arms about, fending her off.

The vomiting ceased when Pearl's stomach realized it had nothing left to throw up. Lyn started nursing her immediately.

Madelyn had by then figured out the problem and snatched the pendant away. Then, she started convulsing and shaking, too.

"Just throw it away!" Alice snapped.

"No. I can handle it," Madelyn growled. She clenched the pendant tighter and walked over to Merlinus's wagon, finally stowing it in a bag. She leaned against the wagon, panting in ragged breaths.

"What was that?" Lyn said, an unquenchable rage in her eyes.

"A pendant papa gave me when I was little."

"I know that!" Lyn snapped. "I'm asking what's gone wrong with it!"

"… It was made so papa can find me if I emit strong emotions. It's for my safety."

"Things meant for safety generally don't cause people to be sick," Roy noted.

"Usually, I'm alright when papa has strong feelings. He worries about me, he's happy when he's with me, those emotions are what I usually feel. But this time, it was different."

"What's he feeling right now. Can you tell?" Madelyn asked, having recovered and checking Pearl's eyes and pulse.

"Fear… so much fear it makes me dizzy. Hatred, hatred so strong that it can kill. The deepest of sorrow," Pearl sniffed. "Such sorrow, even greater than the sorrow he feels when I go away to school. Pride, fierce and defiant pride."

"… The battle is already under way. Lycia is losing, or lost, and its forces are scattered. Many of father's comrades have been slain. He has met the object of his hatred, whatever that is. He calculates that he'll be captured or killed, or has already been captured and is waiting some form of punishment that will render him unable to come to us," Madelyn said as though listing what had already happened.

"Impossible. My brother does not lose," Alice said.

"It is called deductive reasoning, Aunt Alice. It is a generalized sequence of events at best, but when you rule out the impossible whatever is left, however improbable, must be the truth. To generate such fear, hate, sorrow, and pride, so much that Pearl can feel it at this distance, must require exceptional circumstances. He has no fear of death, so his fear must be for us. He has no pride in his work, so it must be pride in his comrades' work. He has plenty of hatred but only a select few are above his contempt, so under the circumstances it must be Zephiel or the like. Sorrow is an almost unthinkable emotion to him, so it must be that some or all of his comrades are dead. I fear we are already too late."

"We won't know anything until we're near the castle," Lyn snapped. "We'll worry when we get there. For now, we have to trust that Kayleth is doing a good job."

"But we must hurry, regardless. The battle has been joined, of that I'm sure," Pearl said. "We're two days away at the most. If we hurry, we should be able to reach Araphen by tomorrow afternoon."

Pearl made to reach out for the pendant. Lyn snatched it away from her. Even Lyn staggered under the pressure of the artifact.

"You children," Madelyn sighed. She was now able to carry the pendant to a satchel on her horse without vomiting or otherwise falling too ill. Her sister and mother had too much empathy. "Roy, tie up my sister so she doesn't do anything foolish."

* * *

The small force did indeed reach Araphen by three in the afternoon. It was clear from a distance, however, that Araphen had fallen.

The devastated castle walls and the citadel were the most glaring anomalies. Most of the buildings in the city were destroyed, too. Smoke filled the skies. There were few Wyvern Knights, though, and Madelyn guessed that the Bernese had moved on.

"Are you sure, Pearl?" Lyn said. There was another bout of vomiting some three hours ago, courtesy of the damnable pendant.

"Who else will lead this army, mama?" Pearl smiled, jumping off to assault Lyn by burying her head in her breasts and rubbing against them. When misused, her type was the best at manipulating people to do her wishes. "Strong as you are, you won't be able to kill a legion of Bernese soldiers alone."

"We will see about that," Lyn growled.

"Thief, stop him!" they heard Madelyn yell.

There was indeed a small boy, a little younger than Madelyn was, dressed in rags with a sack on his back.

The boy tripped when an arrow struck the ground not an inch in front of him. He turned to look at the archer.

"Boy, do you come from the castle?" Lyn said, slinging the bow on her back again. She knew that the boy wouldn't try anything as foolish as running.

"Y-yes ma'am."

"Ho? A source of raw data. C'mere Maddie," Pearl called. "What's your name?"

"I'm Chad," Chad said, dropping the sack. "Please, I was starving."

"Eat the bread," Lyn said. "And answer our questions."

"Someone's raided the supplies!" Merlinus screamed from his wagon.

"We know!" Alice shouted back. "Be quiet and bring Roy here!"

"What happened to Araphen? Why is it so devastated? How did Bern get here so quickly?" Madelyn said while Chad stuffed his face. Her sword left the sheathe for a moment to slice off a strand of his hair. "You will eat, if and only if you answer my questions satisfactorily."

"Gah! You almost killed me!"

"Next time, it won't be almost, but it will most definitely be premeditated. Speak," Madelyn said, completely unconcerned.

"The Bernese… they have dragons."

Madelyn's sword left the sheathe again.

"Woah, it's the truth! I swear to you! They had humans who turned into dragons!" Chad said, falling back onto the ground and scrambling away out of her reach.

"… That would be one of the two logical explanations for how the Bernese were able to march so quickly," Madely nodded. "How many Lycians escaped?"

"All but five or six Legions… I was one of the last to escape. All of Legio XVI except the Red Baron and Lord Hector are dead."

"What?!" Alice shouted.

"Aunt Alice, please don't interrupt. So the Baron took three hardest hitting Legions, volunteers, and took as many Bernese and dragon lives as possible, is that it?"

"Something like that… so many Bernese soldiers and dragons died."

"You said the Baron and Lord Hector are alive. Where are they?"

"Last I heard, in the dungeons."

"Good. Now, mother told you that you could have the food," Madelyn drew her sword back. "But she never said that you could leave unharmed. Any last words, thief, for the sake of your right hand?"

"Madelyn!" Lyn scolded. "He fought for Araphen!"

"I'm sure father's orders did not include desertion. Good point, mother. The eternal flames of justice for evil," Madelyn said, her eyes redirecting to a new target: Chad's neck.

"Wait! You're going to go rescue the Baron and Lord Hector?!"

"Yes, and put away that sword, Madelyn," Roy said.

"Justice must be served."

"It's suicide! Bern still has a lot of soldiers in there! Most of their Legions moved on but-"

"It doesn't matter," Pearl said. "If the dragons are indeed back, we need father to lead humanity's armies and to find the Divine Weapons. Now that Canas and Uncle Erk are dead, he's the only one who knows the location of all the Divine Weapons, except one. We must rescue him, no matter the cost."

"So, any last words, thief?" Madelyn said.

"T-take me with you!" Chad said.

That was the last thing Madelyn had suspected would come out of the boy's mouth. She hesitated further when she saw the fury in his eyes.

"You said it's suicide," Pearl snorted.

"I… a man, a Bishop I knew very well, died fighting Bern," Chad sniffed, biting back his tears. "I will avenge him. I will avenge him if it's the last thing I do!"

"… Welcome Chad, to our little army," Pearl smiled, stretching out a hand.

"Thank you… if you need to open a door, scout, or steal something, I'm your guy!" Chad said.

"I already know you have clever fingers," Pearl grinned, and she used a little hypnosis to calm the thief down. It came easily for her when almost no one was on guard against her. Pearl instinctively wanted to help people, and Chad was getting too worked up over his recent trauma. "I, Pearl, have heard your wish, and by the blood of my ancestors, I swear to you that you will have your revenge against Bern and the dragons. Your enemies shall fall. For now, rest. You are safe."

Chad gradually fell asleep, giving Madelyn and Alice the time to observe Araphen. Pearl formulated the vague outlines of the overall stratagem

* * *

"Ready?" Pearl shouted.

Alice indicated her readiness.

"Down we go!"

Three Bernese soldiers were terrorizing the small village to the west of the castle.

They thought the two approaching wyverns carried friendlies. They were wrong. The riders could not be any more hostile.

Alice and Lyn lost most of their friends and comrades that they had known for decades. Worse, Kayleth and Hector were captured and suffering whatever tortures that Zephiel had in mind for the two. They couldn't possibly be any more hostile.

The archer's throat was pierced by Lyn's unerring aim. Alice sent a javelin through one of the soldiers, sticking him to the door of the house he was trying to break into, and Fenrir's claws tore through the neck of the remaining soldier.

The rest of Pearl's army secured the village.

"So. Where's this mage friend of yours?" Pearl asked.

"Ah, there he is!" Chad said, running off to greet a boy with green hair.

Only Madelyn was able to link the mage to Nino. She couldn't understand why her mother could not see it. The boy was the spitting image of Nino. He looked to be the same age as Nino's children as well.

But she wondered where his twin brother was.

"Chad, you're okay!" the boy said.

"Lou, you hid the little ones?"

"Yeah! The Church promised to take care of them until we could rebuild the orphanage!"

"And… you're sure about this?"

Lou's expression darkened. "I'm a mage, Chad. I'm sick of running. I'm sick of Ray not returning. I'm really sick of Bern. I will avenge Father… I heard you saw him die?"

"Yes… Father was a powerful Bishop. He destroyed an entire wing of the citadel with one spell."

"One day, I'll be as powerful as he was," Lou said. "I'll have Zephiel on his knees and begging for mercy. He'll pay for his crimes."

"I understand how you feel… let's go crush Bern and then go pick up the little ones! Oh, I forgot. This is Lady Pearl, our tactician," Chad said, pointing.

"Wow! She's, er… as small as some of the little ones, isn't she?"

"I'm not small!" Pearl snapped, reconsidering her opinion of Lou. "You know how to use that tome?"

"Yes, my Lady," Lou winced at the authority in the voice.

"Then your wish has been heard, and I promise you revenge like you've never dreamed," Pearl said quietly, and then looked around at the rest of the troops. "All forces, make for the southern wing of the citadel! Double time!"

The gate was already battered apart, so there was no need for normal siege protocols.

The Bernese soldiers occupying the citadel faced the wrath of three of the finest warriors in all of Elibe. Pearl had only to point in the general direction of the enemies. The guards at the entrance didn't even have time to raise the alarm before Alice's super-heavy class wyvern tore into them.

It was rather harder to have the rest of the troops keep pace.

"You're lagging behind again, move it! You call yourselves knights?!" Pearl screeched.

"It's, hah… not our fault!" Wolt replied. "They're too fast!"

"Stop rambling excuses! To the front you dogs! Look at Dieck and Thany!"

"Dieck's a… huff… demon and Thany's on a Pegasus!" Lott shouted.

"What's your point?! Look at Madelyn, Chad, and Lou go! She's being useful! You knights and mercenaries, what do you have to say for yourselves?!"

"We're carrying heavy equipment and armor, they're not!" Roy groaned, catching his breath.

"Idiots! Incompetents! Well, hurry up! I need to go direct the fight!"

Pearl forced her wyvern on faster. She passed Dieck momentarily, but had trouble catching up with the vanguard. Pearl panicked when they turned a corner, leaving her unable to even see them.

Broken corpses and fresh blood were the only indicators that there had been fighting recently.

Pearl realized what dangerous, dangerous people she lived with, and oh how sharp their teeth.

Next to them, she was practically useless on a battlefield. A bother, really, vulnerable to all kinds of danger. Battles were nothing like how they were described in her father's journals. Tactics seemed to be another word for organized chaos.

Pearl finally caught up to Alice and Marcus in the throne room. A dozen guards already lay on the floor, their souls already departed. The remaining three faced imminent death. She watched as Marcus threw his iron axe into one of them while trampling on another. Alice threw a javelin that punched through the last soldier's armor, the tip jutting out from the other side.

"Hmph… where's mother?"

"Heh? Oh. I think she went to the dungeons. Stairs a bit before the throne room, to the right."

"Papa…" the rest of the troops entered the room, coughing and wheezing. Pearl would have to do something about the pacing of the army as a whole for missions that did not have time-constraints. "You're late! Secure the perimeter and search for documents and usable or serviceable weapons and potions. Roy, Ellen, Aunt Alice, Madelyn, to me."

The stairs leading down to the dungeons were dark and slippery. The Bernese had tried to run away to the dungeons, expecting that it'd be the last place the Lycians would want to visit. For good reason, too, for dungeons were usually festering cesspools of decay and disease.

Little did they count on a particularly vengeful Sacaen to sweep through.

"Eww… eww… ewwwww…" Pearl groaned as her wyvern stepped on the bloated stomach of a corpse. It was full of decaying gas, sped up by the unpleasant environment of the dungeons.

"Sister Ellen. No difficulties for you?" Roy asked.

"I'm a cleric… I'm used to blood and corpses."

"Good for you," Pearl snapped. "If I get sick, you'll pay with your body."

"W-what do you mean my body?!"

"She likes harassing women," Madelyn said nonchalantly, stepping over the exploded stomach. "You should feel honored. She only wants to cuddle people she thinks are very nice when she's sick."

"Which is why you and Aunt Alice are excluded," Pearl stuck out a tongue, and groaned when another corpse detonated.

"I'm not sure Pearl should continue. This is bad for her health," Roy said.

"No. My father and Uncle Hector are around here somewhere. I will not leave before I see that they're fine. I'm twelve years old, not a child."

"That's the very definition of a child," Ellen muttered.

"Silence, cleric, or I'll have your mouth sewn shut," Pearl growled through the nausea. "Finally, the cells. Ah, mama! Mama…?"

Pearl saw a sight that she thought no one has ever seen and no one will ever see: her father, with his arms wrapped about his head, was gibbering nonsense while prone on the ground with his knees before his chest. She never thought she'd ever see his father so broken, pathetic, helpless.

The predator was now prey, less than prey. It was unspeakable, unimaginable. That the man who did everything as though with a dying will was so listless was shocking.

On the opposite side of the room was the corpse of Lord Hector, the late Marquess Ostia.

The corpse stirred.

"Your father's alright," Lyn said, pulling out a key from one of the guards and proceeding to unlock the cell. "Hector… the Marquess Ostia is soon to be dead, long live Marchioness Ostia."

Roy rushed to Hector's side, dragging Ellen along.

"It's no use," Lyn sighed, uncharacteristically dejected. She pointed at the elixir she splashed on his body from outside the cell. "Even the elixir didn't work."

"Roy..."

"Lord Hector! Hang on! Sister, make him live!"

"It's impossible... the wound is too big and the magic isn't responding," Ellen panicked as the wound simply refused to close. Even in the harshest of battle injuries there would be some progress with enough application of magic but this particular wound didn't compromise.

"Roy... you're given temporary... overall command of all Lycian forces," Hector said, knowing he didn't have much time. "Witness is Marchioness Caelin. Save... Lilina. Is Kayleth alive?"

"He is," Lyn hesitated.

"He was interrogated for hours. Fix him. Lyn... please... take your throne in Caelin. Lilina will need allies."

"She won't."

"... Is that you, Pearl? My eyesight... I don't-"

"It's me," Pearl cooed, lowering Hector's head on her lap. "I promised Lilina to retrieve you, you know? I can't have you go dying on me." A pointed glare at Ellen told the cleric to expend as much magic as possible. "I might be a 'mischievous brat' but I can't have people calling me a liar."

Hector chuckled. "Silly girl. Whoever called you a mischievous brat?"

"Why, you did," Pearl grinned, and started putting Hector in a trance. She did not know what good it would do but it might keep him alive a little longer. "Now, be a good uncle and stay awake. I'd hate to have to put hot peppers in your underwear for the sixth time." Alice and Marcus arrived on the scene. "Here come Aunt Alice and Marcus with your elixir."

Alice uncorked her bottle and dumped the contents down Hector's mouth, being held open by Marcus.

"Pfuah. It's not going to work. No ordinary blade caused this wound," Hector said, though he sounded slightly better. Pearl noticed.

"More elixir," she commanded.

"Marcus, my friend... look after Eliwood... Roy..."

"Of course, milord." Pearl thought she saw the beginnings of tears in Marcus's eyes.

"Pearl, stop crying." Pearl realized that she had been crying on Hector's face. "Alice..."

"Don't worry, Hector. You're going to live," Alice insisted.

"We all know that's not going to... happen. I leave Ostia to your care... until Lilina is ready. Witnesses are Marchioness Caelin and Sir Marcus."

"We have some!" Chad rushed into the cell.

Pearl saw Hector's eyes roll back. Marcus opened his mouth again and Pearl snatched the flask from Chad to dump the contents.

"Lord Hector...?" Marcus leaned in to listen to his heartbeat.

"... He is with Elimine now," said Ellen.

"... He is too heavy to move as he is. We need to strip him of armor," Alice said. "His body must make it back to Ostia. You, Chad is it? Go find a barrel for pickle and salt. It has to be a big one."

Meanwhile Pearl walked over to Kayleth. She shook his shoulders, "Papa?"

His eyes met hers for a moment, and then he cringed away.

An unfamiliar feeling rose in Pearl. It felt like one of the feelings she had sensed yesterday. Pearl could not quite identify it yesterday, but now she knew.

Fury, fury at the people responsible for reducing her father to such a state, fury at the people who killed Hector, and fury at the world. The fury was so intense, she felt dizzy from it and leaned against the wyvern who roared to give voice to her partner's fury.

Pearl had promised Chad and Lou vengeance. Now, she swore that she would bring Zephiel to his knees and inflict upon him the same suffering that he had inflicted on her father before killing him. She swore it on her father and the grave of everyone she knew who had died in Araphen.

"A neck for an eye, an arm for a tooth, and the iron hammer of justice for my enemies."

* * *

"He's still in that state?" Alice said.

"… First time ever I've seen him in that state," Lyn said. "At least he's not gibbering anymore. He also seems to have recognized Pearl. He's not flinching away from her anymore."

"Naturally, she'd be the first person he recognizes," Madelyn stated, scribbling away in her journal. "She occupies the greatest part of his daily thoughts. He'd really go crazy if something were to happen to Pearl."

"… Let no one see him in this state. Only Roy and Ellen. This is bad for morale," Alice said.

"Ah… Ellen said that there is evidence of someone trying to break into his mind using magic. Whoever it was, he succeeded."

"His mind? What for, Madelyn?" Lyn said.

"They had him come up with an invasion plan for Bern. Ellen thinks that the mage was a monstrously powerful one, even stronger than the late Baroness Nino. The mage got the general outline of the plan before father's mental defenses shut out everything."

"Stronger than Nino? No such monster exists," Lyn said, knowing it to be true. Not even Pent or Erk could compare to Nino in terms of sheer magical might.

"Before today, we thought there were no dragons in Elibe, either. We have to accept the fact that this war could very well be the second Scouring, mother. It's time to retrieve the Sol Katti. We must send word to Ahnenerbe in Ostia, Maid Latte in Etruria, and Afterlife in the Western Isles to start recovering and producing wrymslayers."

"… Why weren't you taught tactics, Madelyn?" Alice asked.

"I'm a better observer than I am a decision maker. I'd take too long making decisions. Besides, I prefer the sword and I have Pearl and father to command me." Madelyn's voice turned frosty, "I have allowed harm to come to my father. It will not happen twice. Though I prefer peace, I have been wronged. It is time for war."

"Wow… my niece has grown up."

"Father lives for one thing, the future. Someone has to care about the present." Madelyn grinned, "It's rather that you haven't grown up, Aunt Alice."

"What?! Why, you brat!"

"True, and turning into an old maid, too," Lyn added.

"I was busy! I had to rebuild the Duchy!"

"Excuses, excuses. Well, maybe it'll take another war for you to find a match. There's nothing like war that brings people from all over the world so close together. Take mother and father, for instance. Never would've met if not for war." Madelyn took care not to mention the name of her fiancee. Interpersonal relations were Pearl's forte, and she'd take care of it later.

"Master Roy, the preservatives have been procured. They will last if we make all haste to Ostia." Merlinus, Roy, and Marcus stood outside the recently collapsed apothecary in the city's main square. Most of the buildings that had once made Araphen the second largest city in Lycia were now little more than a pile of debris.

"Thank you, Merlinus. Do we… really have to burn the city?"

"We cannot afford to give Araphen as a stable forward base of operations for Bernese invasion forces. Araphen must burn," Madelyn said.

"Gah! Madelyn, when did you get here?!"

"Just now. Father's conditions have stabilized, though we're keeping two and Pearl to guard him at all times. I came to see what's taking so long. Merlinus, is there a barrel big enough for Lord Hector's body?"

"We found that some of the bigger wine barrels are large enough, my Lady."

"Excellent. My mother and Aunt have discussed our circumstances. We have our marching orders. Our priority is to make all haste to Ostia to prepare a viable defense of the citadel and if possible the city. Our secondary objective is the security of Marquess Ostia's body and the revival of my father's mind. Our tertiary objective is the Durandal, which I am reasonably certain that father hid near Ostia. All with your approval, of course, Roy."

"What? How am I supposed to-"

"You're the highest ranking representative of the Lycian Alliance present, and the Lord or employer of most of our troops. Besides, separation of military and political hierarchies has always proven useful. You are the political head of this army, Master Roy," Marcus said.

"Yes, and therefore your orders, Roy?"

"… We March to Ostia. The war would be lost if Bernese forces capture it. Lilina's there, too."

"Through Laus?"

"Why not through Laus?"

"It is likely the Marquess Laus has turned traitor."

"We can't know that for sure!"

"It sounds simple enough," Marcus said. "We broke their back two decades ago with a much inferior force. This time, with Lady Lyndis and Lady Alice by our side, we have the advantage in force. We will ride through and deliver justice if need be."

"Sounds like a plan. We'll assume hostile contact from the beginning, of course," Madelyn nodded. "Well, then, do we not have a body to pickle?"

* * *

Pearl considered the ring on her father's finger.

The black stone held a sheen visible even in the cover of darkness.

Pearl was never one to place much stock in tradition or propriety, but the ring held mysticism even for her. The ring was perhaps the only thing her father didn't share with her.

She wondered if it'd fit her thumb. Her fingers started prying the ring off. She noted how slender her father's finger was, fingers meant for music or painting, hardly the kind of fingers one would expect for someone who went to war regularly. The ring made the finger look small.

Pearl believed she had enough baby fat left to be able to fit the ring on her thumb.

The craftsmanship that went into the creation of the likeness of a hawk with the stone was astounding. Pearl guessed that it took magic. Engraved inside the rings were three words, 'duty unto death'.

Pearl chuckled. Only her ancestors could come up with such dreary words to engrave in such a pretty ring. Legend had it that the ring was imbued with the echoes of all of her ancestors' spirits. Nearly forty generations of Dukes and Duchesses of her homeland.

If that was true, they had failed her father miserably, and her grandfather even worse.

The ring easily fit her thumb.

Pearl felt terribly drowsy. It was true that it was past her bedtime. Her mother had already kissed her good night, and thought her asleep. No one would miss her at this time of the night, save perhaps Madelyn.

"She's too young."

Pearl screamed when she saw a huge man suddenly standing right next to her.

"She's too young," the space echoed. Pearl realized that she was not in the tent anymore.

Nearly a hundred of people filled the dark space.

Even for a dream, this was bewildering. The people began to drift off, not paying her much mind.

"Umm… hello?" Pearl ventured. She might as well make the most of her dream. Pearl recalled the image of her own bedroom, and it materialized in her dream.

A blonde woman, she looked much like Aunt Alice did but different in subtle ways, entered the room.

"You must be Pearl," the woman smiled.

"I am. Who are you?" Pearl asked happily. Even in her dreams it was easy to charm adults.

"I'm Viviane, your grandmother."

Pearl thought she recognized the woman. She'd seen portraits of her grandmother at citadel Winterfell. "… I've never seen my grandmother. It's impossible that I know what you look like. But you're in my dream. You're not my grandmother."

"But this is not a dream, dear. This is your mindscape connected to the ring," her arms easily picked Pearl up. "Your father has not told you, I suppose. Had you been but two years older, you would have died."

"So I can wear it until I'm fourteen?"

"Clever girl," Viviane beamed, caressing her head.

"Aren't I?" Pearl responded with her most radiant smile. She studied her supposed grandmother closer.

She could see the resemblance.: the pronounced cheekbones, the high nose, the hair. Her grandmother was Aunt Alice in fifteen years. She was her in thirty years.

"Step back from my daughter," a voice Pearl recognized well snarled. Relief flooded her systems, until she remembered that the ring held the echo of ancestral memories. Whether they were dead or alive ancestors had not been made clear.

"Papa!" Pearl cried. "Are you alive?!"

"I don't know. Am I?" the memory asked itself, and the question completely threw it completely off track.

"Is he?" Pearl asked her grandmother.

"I don't know. What's the matter, dear?" now it was the grandmother's turn to scrutinize the granddaughter. "You look like you're nine or ten… but it is impossible. Your father probably used an Angelic Robe on you when you were too young. Anyhow, twelve years old? Why do you believe your father dead? He should be at the peak of his power now. Dozens of Legions ready to heed his call."

"King Zephiel betrayed him. Bernese armies have taken Araphen, and are invading Ilia and Sacae. He almost killed Aunt Alice."

"Ha! I told you there was something wrong with him," another man appeared, and for a moment Pearl mistook him for her father.

"Father mine." Pearl realized that it was her grandfather. "Now is not the time to bring up our past."

"We shouldn't be giving her advice, either. It is against convention," Calgar said, stroking his chin. "Hello… Pearl, isn't it?"

"Hello… grandpa?"

"How touching," Kayleth sneered. "Convention this, tradition that, leave your grandchild to die, ignore the return of dragons. Yes, the tradition you love so much."

"We don't even know whether you're alive."

"All the more reason to give her advice. The dragons have returned."

"… So you're dead?" said Viviane.

"I told you, I don't know. Stupid woman."

"So our House is in danger of going extinct?" Calgar yelped. "Why didn't you tell us this earlier?!"

"I just got here, idiot!"

"Idiot? Weren't you the one who-"

"So I'm expected to predict the future? What kind of an expectation is that? No wonder your children-"

"You're our child, too!" Viviane interjected.

"Yes, and look how well that turned out," Kayleth snarled. "Obsessive compulsiveness, paranoia, a lifetime of constant war. Thank you, mother."

"It's a wonder anyone let you raise children. Mentally unstable adults are stripped of their children in Hamor," said Calgar.

Viviane wore a smug expression on her face. "Indeed. You used to step on ladies' feet on purpose while dancing, purposely ignored dining etiquette, told your tutors that they were all incompetents and idiots, and God only knows how many times you caused trouble at the academy. You were a horrible child. Two steps from psychopathic, even."

Kayleth's eyes glinted in the dangerous tilt Pearl often saw before he ordered executions. "Oh? So you're telling me that I should've had Pearl watch executions at age six, attend court at age ten, go to war at age twelve? She might not have that kind of training, but she's not weak! Alice turned out great without that kind of training."

"And you could've stopped Nergal without the training?"

"Old man, I'd be happy to give you a second death. If that's possible within this ring, that is."

"Ha! You thing you can kill me in a contest of arms?"

"Stop fighting!" Pearl screamed, causing the argument to come to an abrupt halt.

"Papa, you shouldn't talk to your papa and mama like that," she scolded. "And you two, it's not enough that I don't know my grandparents but you talk to papa like that?"

"Yes… we're in the presence of company," Viviane said. "We have an eternity to argue, anyways."

"I can agree to a truce, if only in Pearl's presence," said Kayleth.

"Truce," Calgar nodded. "So what's the situation here? How did you come in possession of the ring?"

"Wait a minute. Why's she still in your arms?" Kayleth growled.

"But I just met my grandma," Pearl said as though that explained everything.

"It's natural for a child to love the grandparent more," Viviane said, smiling smugly.

"It is?" Kayleth was skeptical. He'd seen his own grandparents within the ring, but felt no particular obligation to them.

"Back to the topic, if you please," Calgar said. "And give her to me."

"No way! I came here first!" Viviane snapped, deflecting Calgar's outreaching arms.

"You see, Pearl? Your grandparents are the most selfish, uncooperative-"

"… If you fight again while I'm here, I'm going to get out and throw this ring in the sea."

"What?! You can't do that!"

"We have some old-timers here! They'll get bored to madness if there are no new arrivals!"

"Oh God. What'll I do if I can never see you again?" Pearl noticed her father was on the verge of mental breakdown and quite possibly suicidal depression. She had to watch out for that if her father woke up.

Most people believed it was her father protecting her. In reality, she was the final check on his sanity for many years now.

"Good, so you can fight while I'm not here. Now, I'm commander of the remainder of Lycian Alliance forces."

The adults just stared at her, waiting for the punch line.

"Marcus helps," she defended herself.

"I really messed up this time…" Kayleth mumbled to himself.

"Several Lycian Legions seem to have escaped," Pearl continued. "Bernese casualties, as far as Madelyn tells me, must be enormous. The funeral pyres are still burning. Bernese forces are marching onwards to seize nearby cantons. My forces have driven the Bernese out of Castle Araphen, rescued papa and lord Hector, and are heading southwest with the view to receiving reinforcements from Marquess Orun on the way to Ostia."

"… Hmph. It seems like she is as intelligent as she should be, despite the half-breed blood in her," Calgar said.

"Call her half-blood again," Kayleth snarled.

"Papa!" Pearl admonished. "And you, grandpa. I'm not a dog!"

"It means you have Sacaen blood, dear," Calgar said dismissively. "It's alright. You still have enough civilized blood in your veins to make you of my House."

"I happen to be very proud of my mama, thank you," she replied tersely. "She's a lot more reliable than papa is."

Calgar flinched at the accusation, while Kayleth seemed to be getting a heart attack.

"Oh, but I love you very much too, papa," Pearl added, after which Kayleth seemed to be able to breathe again. She knew very well who to call for certainty of achieving her goals.

"Yes, yes, but we're constantly going off on tangents! Back to the subject, please," Viviane insisted. "What happened to my niece? Surely she's on Alice's side? And Alice's fiancee! What of him?!"

Kayleth froze, a horrified expression overwhelming his face. He started vomiting.

"… I see. I'll be seeing you some other time, dear," Viviane gave Pearl a kiss and vanished.

"… Aunt Nino is dead?"

"… Yes. And Jaffar. Rebecca. Lowen. Sain. Kent. Fiora. Guy. Erk. Serra. Matthew. Heath. Oswin. Wallace. Hector… unless you found him alive?" Kayleth looked up with mild hope.

"Dead. How will you explain it to Lilina nee?" Pearl sighed. She had suspected as much and had been crying her eyes out for most of the evening, but she'd retained a faint trace of hope.

"I take it those are some of the soldiers who fought for you against Nergal?" Calgar asked.

"Yes, and I managed to get most of them killed by the end."

"Friends of yours?"

"Pfft. We're alike in that regard, at least. No. Maybe five of them. My friends have a disturbing ability to die before I do."

"You don't seem sad about it at all!" Pearl said indignantly.

"It's alright. I just have to avenge them." Pearl could see the madness return in her father's eyes. That madness that compelled him to go to war as a living, even though he didn't need to. The madness that put five bodyguards on her at all times until quite recently. The madness that made him disappear for weeks, even when she was younger. The kind of madness that made him build a fortress out of his business. It was quite likely that only that madness could save her and all of her loved ones.

The kind of madness that Pearl lacked as a tactician and noble. She finally understood what the ring was for.

"Grandpa, how many strategists or tacticians are in this ring? How many of them have seen war?"

"All but two or three have seen war. A dozen or so are generals and strategists of some sort."

"Who's best?"

"Well…" Calgar coughed. "It's rude to compare your ancestors, but-"

"You want the first, third, sixteenth, and me," Kayleth said. "Too many navigators will sink a boat. What you want in war is decisiveness. It doesn't even have to be smart decisions, but you must do something, and pretend that you know what you're doing with absolute certainty. Rely on your sister for small stuff like unit organization and logistics. How big is the army under your command? What condition am I in?"

"How about mother? Or Aunt Alice?"

"Excellent soldiers. Worthless in any other position. Maybe drill instructors."

"I have Merlinus, and Marcus."

"Have them do logistics and training, respectively."

"I have a thief, a mage, two cavaliers, an armored knight, a cleric, Roy, Madelyn, Wolt, two axemen, ah, a Pegasus Knight and a mercenary."

"… That sounds awfully similar to my army when I started. Coincidence?" Kayleth murmured.

"You're alive. The cleric told me you suffered a powerful mental attack, though."

"We'll assume the worst, then. They're heading straight for Ostia."

"How do you know?"

"I fantasize about certain things when I'm bored or you're not nearby. World conquest. It's a fun game."

"World conquest? You realize how childish that sounds?" Pearl giggled. "Silly papa."

"Not at all. It is all part of greed. In each of us there is an endless hunger for land, food, other resources. That is the drive of human evolution. And I am one of the greediest the world has ever seen. I want to conquer the world and give it to you on a silver platter. If you will it, I can conquer all of creation."

"If I want the world, I'll take it myself, papa."

Kayleth wore an uncomprehending expression. "You don't want the world?"

"No, silly. I want status quo ante bellum," Pearl said, as though that was any less of a fantasy.

"Ah. So she can read," Calgar seemed to be impressed, too impressed.

"Only subjects I like, or I get bored," Pearl added. "Seriously, one more half-racist comment and I'm gonna chuck this ring in the river."

"I'd advise you not to."

Pearl looked around and saw another stranger. Again, it was a face she'd seen amongst the portraits at Winterfell.

He was a giant among men, more than seven feet tall and wrought with muscles and scars. He had hair as white as hers and eyes as green as her aunt's. It was hard to imagine this barbarian was in any way related to her.

"Well, I trust you'll be taking good care of my granddaughter. See you later, Pearl," Calgar disappeared.

"Primogenitor," Kayleth bowed lower than Pearl had ever thought it possible for him to bow.

"Latest," the giant nodded.

"No longer, I'm afraid. This is my daughter, Pearl."

"Do they become smaller every generation?" the giant chuckled. "Hello, little one. I am Adam."

"First Duke of Winterfell. One of the greatest heroes of the Scouring," Kayleth added.

"… What kind of a war was the Scouring that it required warriors like you?" Pearl marveled at the power emanating from the man. She now realized that it was he who cast the giant shadow when she entered her mindscape. It was he who judged her too young to judge.

"Not as terrible as the war ahead of you, great though it will be," Adam smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. I got the third and sixteenth out of their wars. I'll get you out of this one, too."

"You're excited, aren't you?" Pearl realized.

Adam shrugged. "It's been a long time since I've seen my Great Enemies. Although... I am sorry for your loss, and for your sake, I will do my best to end this war."

"Yes. You have to count yourself blessed."

The newcomer was almost as tall as Adam, but even more heavily built. Pearl knew Adam was a swordsman, as her father had told her. This man was an axeman or a halberdier.

"Third," Kayleth bowed.

"To have opponents worthy of facing your wrath. To have enemies worth killing. To fight with everything you have, because to do otherwise means death. Is that not the joy of war?"

"As you can see, he's a little unhinged," Kayleth whispered to Pearl.

"I am Thom. If ever you feel the need to conquer, you know who to ask."

"And finally, sixteenth, Duchess Mary," Kayleth gestured at the raven-haired woman who appeared right next to him. "Your experts for dragons, blitz, and defensive action, respectively."

"We've gotten a fresh one this time, haven't we?" Mary said, picking Pearl up and scrutinizing her. "What doll-maker shaped you, I wonder?"

Mary yelped as Pearl experimented on the pair of melons. "God, of course. How else would I be so adorable? What do you do, papa?"

"I'm your guardian. A check against any of these maniacs exerting their own will on your will. It's time for you to go to sleep, dear. And if I don't wake up, or I'm too unstable to be useful, tell Alice that it is time. She will understand."

Pearl resolved to never say anything of the sort.

* * *

Chapter 9, I think, of Oedipus Rex has been updated with an omake.


	7. Treachery with Retribution

Pearl knew what she meant to her father: slightly more than everything.

She also knew what his survival, and mental health, meant for everyone she held dear. Madelyn had made that quite clear. Doctoring was not her forte. Pearl had no time, patience, or the remotest interest in details. She knew that she was an excellent caretaker when she wanted to be, though. Few could surpass her in comforting people. In a way, her father was her first patient.

So she knew that if anyone was going to repair his mind, it was going to be her. If anyone was to give him fresh purpose, it would be her. Her father's memory in the ring had told her as much.

Her father stirred, and Pearl pretended to be asleep.

Kayleth stared at the little slip of a girl, dearest in his heart and his greatest legacy.

Also the one he'd wronged most.

She woke up. He had to look away.

"Papa!" Pearl jumped on top of her father.

Kayleth reveled in her warmth and presence for a moment, but then gently put her down, pushing her away. It was remarkable how weightless and ephemeral she seemed, rather like a fairy.

Pearl looked at him with an expression of relief contorted by pain at his pain and betrayal at his pushing her away. It hurt to look at it, and he desperately wanted to enfold her with his arms and whisper that it was all going to be alright.

But he couldn't, because that would be a promise he couldn't deliver, just as he could not deliver victory to his comrades and some even his friends. So he forced himself to watch her pain in penance.

"Why?" Pearl said, barely stemming her tears from flooding out.

"… I've failed my duties. I've failed Elibe, humanity, and my subjects. I've failed the legacy of my ancestors and the future of my children. I've failed Lyn and Alice long ago, but now I've even failed Madelyn and you. All my sacrifices, and I was wrong in the one moment I shouldn't have been wrong. I am worthless. Leave me," Kayleth hung his head. "I am unworthy of your presence. The one person I swore I wouldn't fail."

"… And by failure, you mean me going to war?"

"No. I mean my failure to give you a choice. To study literature rather than war, mathematics instead of logistics, geography instead of tactical maps. To do nothing at all, and while away the days in happiness. To give you that which you are entitled to. Instead, my hubris took away your choice, and killed many people you cared for."

"… Baka."

Kayleth raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"You've given me all the choice in the world. In teaching me of war, you gave me the choice of being useful to those who are dear to me. In living, just living, you gave me the choice of taking up my duties or having none; I decided not to shirk my duties. In teaching me to be a noble, you gave me the choice of affecting the future of Elibe, and I took it. All that I have, so many choices that it would beggar the imagination of a normal girl, I owe to you Papa."

"It's not a choice," Kayleth spat, bitterness in his mouth. "I made the mistake of allowing Zephiel on the throne, and it might cost you your life and more. By now you've probably heard of the accusations against me: Kayleth the patricide, matricide, and even fratricide, when I should've given you grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Please, find it in your heart to forgive me for my sins against you." Kayleth took a deep breath, realizing that everything was his fault.

"But it was all for me, wasn't it?"

"… For other things, too, but yes."

"Then I don't forgive you."

Kayleth turned his head away, unable to look at Pearl in his shame.

"Because there is nothing, not a single thing, to forgive."

"What?! I forced you into a war which you should not be seeing, caused the death of-"

"The actions of another is not your fault." Pearl shook her head, "Papa is very conceited… if he thinks he can control everything in the world."

"I should be able to, at least when it affects you. The daughter of a parricide, they'll call you-"

"And so what if others call me that! They can choke on their 'justice' for all I care!" Pearl screamed, startling Kayleth with her vehemence. "Always feared and hated, because you always do the things that no one else will, shoulder the responsibility that no one else will shoulder! And because you always do it, they always give you the hard jobs, the hurtful jobs!"

"Pearl, you shouldn't-"

"Shut up, I'm talking! Idiot papa! I won't be, and I don't want to be, a child forever! I believe in your decisions!" Pearl clenched her teeth and her hands rolled into fists.

"Whatever happens, I'll stay with you until the bitter end! So what if they call me daughter of a parricide?! What could those ignorant worms possibly know of your suffering?! Even if the world calls you a villain, I will go to the highest mountain I can find and shout 'my father did no wrong!' If God appears to judge you, I'll scream, 'don't you dare presume to judge my father! He's above your judgment!'"

Pearl began pounding the floor of the wagon with her fists in frustration and Kayleth had to hold her to stop her from causing herself more harm. Kayleth took a vial of elixir out of her belt to treat the hands. The talisman linking the emotional states of the two amplified Pearl's emotions reaching Kayleth.

"Why? Because he did everything he could, offered everything he had and more, for a brighter future. Because sometimes, a few must be sacrificed for the safety of the many. Because the ones who dare judge you have never had to make such decisions themselves. This is Elibe, not Elysium, and as I found out recently reality holds a tight rein on this world. So please… return my papa. I need him," Pearl started crying as pitifully as she could. She started bawling and weeping as though Kayleth had abandoned her.

Kayleth felt as though he was jolted awake. Pearl picked the right time to appeal to her father's protective instincts. The last vestiges of the dragon, Idoun, faded away from his mind.

"A-and I'll tell them, that yes I-I am the daughter of a p-parricide. I'll hold my head h-high. This is m-my choice. So give me b-back my papa!"

Kayleth knew that Pearl was right. Despite her emotions coloring her image of him, he did have a duty to perform. He couldn't let all the sacrifices go to nothing now.

It was time for the dead to rise. He would be the first. Kayleth stopped his tears and steeled himself. Having an upstart bastard traitor to humanity ruin Pearl's life would not do. He had to be more cunning, paranoid, and ruthless than ever before.

He wondered if he could do it. He was so very damaged and tired. Conflict was an addiction to him, but to be asked twice to assure the fate of mankind in twenty years was appalling. The weight of his responsibilities was still leaden, and this time the stakes were higher than ever.

Pearl blew her nose on his shirt.

"Don't you have a thousand handkerchiefs?" Kayleth scolded.

It was Pearl's turn to analyze him, and she found that her father had recovered somewhat. Not as repaired as she had hoped but not as damaged, either. Gone were the vacant eyes, restored with the glint of madness so familiar to her. That would have to do for starters.

"… Wait. Did you call me a parricide?" Kayleth realized with growing dread.

Pearl grimaced. She'd expected her emotional assault to overwhelm her father's senses and prevent him from going over details. She showed him the ring on her thumb.

"I take it that you had a very good reason to disobey me. Never do that again."

"You appeared in it when I put it on. You said you'd keep me safe."

"Huh. What did I say?"

"That you'd protect me from the other personalities in the ring."

"Good… my father promised me that as well. Where am I? How did you get me out of Araphen? What forces do you have at your disposal?"

"You're safe," Pearl reassured him. Coming from anyone else, Kayleth wouldn't believe a word. "We're heading towards Ostia. We rescued you from Araphen by storming the citadel. We have Roy, Marcus, mama, Aunt Alice, Madelyn, and about ten other troopers."

"… You've seen battle, haven't you?" Kayleth singled out the source of her daughter's change. War was bad for her kind. Death struck Pearl where it would be a passing moment of indifference to Kayleth. The death of everyone who had ensured his redemption during the War against Nergal was a serious blow to Kayleth's pride, but Pearl felt the impact tenfold.

"I'm the tactician!" she babbled animatedly about the three victories her forces achieved. Pearl knew perfectly well he didn't listen to half the words she said, but it was more important to keep his attention on her rather than other things.

And her father's mind always drifted towards unpleasant things. In his state, those unpleasant thoughts would be detrimental to his psychological stability. Pearl eventually switched topics to materials completely irrelevant to the war. It was so natural that even Kayleth almost fell for it.

Pearl had been bartending for two years. It was a job that required more insights into the human psyche than it required serving drinks. By that standard, Pearl was a great bartender. Her tip jar was always inundated with gold by the end of the day, and not just out of the novelty of being served by the most adorable bartender in existence. She admitted it might have had something to do with her increasing the alcohol content for most of the drinks served after the first three or four mugs, though, when people couldn't tell the difference.

It might also have had something to do with the mild hypnosis she put them under. People never had their guard up against her, and years of practice since she was eight made her good enough to even affect her father.

She kept her father entertained for hours before the natural tiredness that came from her high-energy waking hours gradually put her to a nap.

* * *

Marcus's jaws hit the ground when he saw Kayleth walk about.

"Marcus?" Kayleth waved a hand in front of his face.

"What happened at Araphen?"

"They had dragons, they outnumbered us, and yes… I failed to even the odds." Kayleth stopped that line of thought with a vicious application of his will, and snarled, "We lost a critical battle, but we have yet to lose this war. So, are you with me or against me?"

"… It's not my place to decide that. I will do whatever my Lord Eliwood commands, and his current decree is that I shall do whatever it takes to help master Roy survive," Marcus pointed, without meaning to, at Roy's tent. "But I do know that you must have had a good reason to get Lord Hector, the entirety of Araphen's military might, all of Lycia's hired Pegasus Knights, most of the veterans of the war with Nergal, and a great many others die." Marcus's eyes narrowed, "Am I right?"

"A very good one, though I have my doubts about the success-"

"Stop."

"Heh?"

"Not another word of doubt out of you. You'll make sure it succeeds," Marcus's eyes flared in anger. "Or I will kill you myself, for the memories of Lowen, Isadora, Harken, Lord Hector, and others."

Kayleth bristled, "Of course I won't forget my duties. Didn't you hear Lord Athos's prophecy? There is no doubt that their lives weren't wasted."

"Then who do you believe it is?"

"I've no doubt that it's Pearl, and perhaps Roy as Roland's successor this time. He ought to be capable of broadsword-mastery. I hear Pearl's kept you alive so far?"

Marcus frowned, "But sending such a young-"

"It is her choice, and she has made it, as is her birthright as a sentient and educated woman." Kayleth understood that having met her when she was very young, and her petite stature, made Marcus that much more reluctant to send that child to war. "Children don't stay children forever, even if we wish it with all of our hearts. The world has never shown kindness to the naïve."

A man appeared, sweating all over and covered with bruises. He took some water from a barrel and washed himself. Then, he saw Kayleth.

"Huh. So the Red Baron is awake. Nice to meet you," Dieck said, coming to Marcus and Kayleth.

Kayleth noted the tattoos on the right shoulder, the scars, the muscle structure, bearing, and hands of the newcomer. "… Gladiator? Pit fighter? Tell me Roy didn't commit the idiocy of charging into an arena and freeing one, Marcus. Or, if he did, tell me he at least freed all of the gladiators and made them join our army," Kayleth said, as though the man wasn't there.

"That is Dieck, Lord. He commands a few mercenaries we had hired on the way to Araphen."

"You bet. The Lycian army may have been defeated, but we're paid for three months' worth of campaigning. I'm not one to switch allegiance when I've already been paid. Your daughter, Pearl-"

Kayleth's eyes flared at the words. His right hand extended to catch Dieck's throat and he hurled him against the ground. His fingers squeezed, digging into the neck. Kayleth's left hand slammed the air out of Dieck's lungs.

"It is Lady Pearl, or Lady tactician Pearl. This is what is left of the Lycian army, this army carries the hope for Elibe's future, and my daughter is a guardian of that hope. In her runs the blood of heroes of the Scouring, the blood of conquerors and rulers. Say her name so lightly again, and I will show you why the rumors about me are based on facts." Kayleth snarled, and released his grip.

Dieck coughed, taking in a lungful of air, and nodded frantically. It seemed that the Count, for he knew that to be his actual title despite his nickname, was every bit as belligerent, ill-tempered, and stuck-up as he had heard he was. Barking mad, too, if Dieck could judge by the fire of unshakeable fanaticism in his eyes.

If that part of the rumors were true, the other parts of the rumors could be true, too. That he would be capable, cold but just, efficient, knowledgeable, manipulative, and trustworthy insofar as he would see to their ultimate victory.

"Hmph. A peasant could never hope to understand me. Don't try," Kayleth continued, noting Dieck's scrutiny. "I run armies, not bandit hordes. Understanding of the military hierarchy and one's place in it will be enforced. I couldn't care less if you are a sewer rat or the King of Etruria. Field authority lies with me. I make only one promise. I will not waste your life frivolously. In return, I take unquestioning obedience only."

"I understand."

"I understand…?"

"I understand, my Lord."

"Very good. I assume you're on a training schedule?"

"Yes, tactician."

"Back at it, then. Your reflex could use work."

Dieck bowed, a hint that he had worked for nobility before, and went back.

"Really, all that just because he said your daughter's name," Marcus sighed.

"You've known her a long time. You've the permission and the right," Kayleth said. "It is a permission not granted lightly and it is not a right earned easily."

"Kayleth!"

Kayleth and Marcus turned to look at Lyn. Again, Kayleth found it shameful to be looked upon by her. He grit his teeth and bit down his pride to kneel on one knee before her, stretching out his right hand. Kayleth expected her to never forgive him for his monumental failure, and his responsibility as the overseer of the most disastrous military campaign Lycia had seen in centuries.

Surprisingly, she rested a hand on his outstretched one. He pulled it in to kiss it. Kayleth supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Lyn had a history of forgiveness. Without her forgiveness and inspiration, he would've committed suicide long ago.

Lyn leaned down and whispered, "It's not your fault."

"There is empirical evidence and sound reasoning that it is my fault. I should not have meddled in affairs I could not predict the consequences of."

"So that makes me and Alice guilty, too?" Lyn growled.

"… Of course not, I see your point. Nevertheless, will you forgive me?"

Lyn kissed his forehead, which Kayleth took as an affirmative. "Don't I always?"

"Where's Pearl?"

"Sleeping in my wagon. Our wagon, I assume?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now that Pearl is sleeping, Marcus, sitrep."

Marcus hesitated, and his expression said enough for Kayleth.

"I am only mildly insane, and my tactical insight should be sound, despite my one defeat at Araphen. I doubt my torturer left some lingering vestige of her will behind. I was supposed to be a secured prisoner, after all."

Kayleth's eyes went out of focus, and he experienced intense nausea. His thoughts were truly coming back to bite him, and none of his thoughts were good.

His thoughts were full of failure. Kayleth was unused to failures. He had contingency plans for contingency plans to prevent failure. Araphen was an unmitigated disaster for which he saw no hope of recovering from. Even with the desperation born of Pearl's importance, he wasn't sure he could balance the odds this time around.

And then, there was the torture. Rigorous, even by his standards, and he'd only been in his captors' hands for a couple of hours.

He collapsed on the ground, foaming in his mouth.

"… Sister Ellen!" Marcus shouted.

Ellen rushed over from her tent.

"What in the world's wrong with him again?!" Lyn yelled in frustration.

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought it might be somebody else."

"What's that supposed to mean…?" a sword rested on Ellen's throat, a katana modeled after the Mani Katti and forged with Damascus-pattern steel in the tradition of a Killing Edge, finally reinforced with orihalcon at the instructions of Kayleth. It was a weapon designed to destroy armor and other weapons, not to mention something as delicate as a human throat. "On with it, cleric," Madelyn continued in the same monotone. "My father saved you and your family's lives whether you realize it or not; you will pay due respect or I will take your head."

"Eep!" was all Ellen could manage.

"Ellen, treat the Count to the best of your abilities."

Madelyn withdrew her sword as Ellen did as her Princess ordered. Her azure eyes scanned for any sign of treachery and her sword remained outside its sheathe.

"Princess," Lyn nodded.

Roy ran over from his tent, and stopped only to bow, "Princess, godmother."

"It's the least I can do… though he killed many of my kin."

"He ended the reign of a tyrant, and of that you should be grateful," Alice said, having just arrived at the site of the commotion.

"… I think it's simply the fact that he hardly ate or drank in the last few days," Ellen said, finishing up with her staff.

Sighs of relief echoed throughout the assembled people.

"Marcus, carry him to his tent. Lo-" Roy stopped himself just in time. He had to remember now, that Lowen was dead. That he'd never see him train in the courtyard again. That he'd never spar with him again. That he'd never taste his blueberry pancakes again. Pearl actually cried about these things, the pancake part anyways. Roy and Wolt had coughed up the last portions of Rebecca and Lowen's treats to console her, the last of their emergency rations. "Wolt, oatmeal and rabbit stew for two."

"Two?"

"I'll be eating with him."

"Not until he gets better," Lyn said.

"My Lady godmother, I am the most direct representative of the late Lord Hector, first among equals of the Lycian Alliance. I will speak with godfather as soon as it is convenient."

Lyn was just about to burst into a violent protest when Pearl wrapped her arms around her right thigh. Then she understood. Pearl was responsible for the lives of those in the army, but Roy had an even greater responsibility.

That was too great a responsibility for Roy, and he needed all the help he could get.

"I'll help you with that, Wolt, and it'll be for three."

"My Lady, there is no need-"

"Four," Alice said.

"Wolt, don't let auntie near the fire or the ingredients," Pearl warned in a playful singsong way. "She's liable to destroy our tongues."

"Six," Marcus said. "Merlinus and I deserve to know how our comrades died."

"Maddie, go help. Sister Ellen, you too. Your Highness, please remain out of my father's sight until he is more stable."

Madelyn and Ellen started after Wolt. Roy walked towards his tent.

"Hmm? Why me?" Guinevere was confounded.

"Despite your past meetings, I can say with absolute certainty that if he sees you he will not hesitate a second to snap your neck and crucify you on the highest tower he can find. Before you're crucified, he'll also offer your still warm body to any of the soldiers who need sport."

"Pearl!" Lyn scolded.

Pearl continued, unperturbed. "My mother insists I should not know things like this, but believe me your Highness, I'm an expert when it comes to my father, and he is the greatest expert alive on things like this. He was the King's hawk for a reason. He will hesitate because his daughters are here, but not for long. You are to remain in your quarters until I say otherwise, and that is my decree. The tactician's authority is unquestionable on matters of security, and failure to comply will be punished by military law."

Guinevere paled as she considered Pearl's words, and nodded.

Pearl smiled reassuringly. "Military law basically means I can do whatever I'd like. I like being cuddled. Maybe I'll sleep pillowed by your breasts-"

Pearl was interrupted from her teasing the Princess by her aunt, who thumped her on the head, clasped her mouth shut, and dragged her away. Pearl immediately started producing tears, which made Alice feel a little guilty even if she knew that they were brought out on purpose.

* * *

"Wyvern!" Wolt yelled, fixing an arrow to his bow.

It was nearing dusk, and he couldn't quite make out the rider. He hesitated from firing because he knew Alice was out scouting.

Madelyn and Marcus were the first to respond to the call to arms. Pearl was a distant last, getting up from her pre-dinner nap which took place mere hours after her post-lunch nap.

She walked at a dreamy pace towards the source of the commotion, and found a familiar wyvern and rider. Ellen was using her staff on the rider.

It irked her that something as insignificant as Al crash landing woke her up. On the other hand, one of her favorite toys was back in her immediate reach.

"Is he alright?" Pearl asked.

"He is healing at a remarkable pace," said Ellen, her eyes wide in surprise. "Even without my healing, I suspect he would've been alright."

"Good. Al, attend me," said Pearl.

"Yes, milady," Al got up, groaning. There was an audible pop as he forced his dislocated shoulder back in.

"He needs rest-"

"He'll be fine. He only crash landed," said Pearl. "He's done that a hundred times."

"It's not a cause for concern," agreed Madelyn.

"If you say so," said Ellen.

"I do say so. If you're so worried about him, you can accompany me," Pearl looked forward to finding out the color of the cleric's underwear, and if nothing else, she'd serve as a fine pillow to go back to her nap. "You're late, Al."

"There were, er... complications, milady," the blue-haired youth shifted uneasily. He knew very well what his station in life was.

"What complications?"

"You know, detected, life-threatening, and on-the-run kind. Does the Count live?"

"He does, no thanks to you."

"I'm sorry, milady."

"You better have a good excuse for being late, Al," Pearl reached her tent. Al undid the fastenings on her shoes.

"Marquess Laus is, as Lord Kayleth suspected, a traitor. It was difficult to escape unnoticed. Castle Laus is under martial law. There are perhaps four scores of guards and a score of mounted Knights stationed at castle Laus at the moment. The rest have gone north to support the Bernese advance."

"Go on," Pearl hopped on her bedding and indicated in no uncertain terms that the cleric was to serve as a pillow.

"He's defenseless right now. Our forces should be able to take them. Lady Lyndis alone could probably take most of them."

"That is excellent news," the little girl purred, making herself comfortable. "Well, you can get started on cleaning Highwind. He has dirt underneath his scales. Not a speck of dirt remaining, understand?"

The abused butler sighed, "Of course, milady."

* * *

"Ah, Laus. It's been, what, some eighteen years?" Lyn stared longingly at the plains in front of castle Laus. Whether she would ever see Sacae again was an unknown.

"More or less," Marcus shrugged.

"So… are we to ask for an audience with Marquess Laus?" Roy asked.

"… Are you an idiot? We're going to carve a path of blood until we reach the Marquess Laus and think up of a suitable way to finally dispose of that waste of good air. We will minimize their casualties, of course. It wouldn't do to conquer Laus and not be able to use its resources against Bern," Madelyn snapped.

"Yes. Pearl as Marchioness Laus has a good ring to it, don't you think?" Kayleth chuckled, continuing to observe with his spyglass. Now that he thought about it, that was an excellent idea. Kill the Marquess, send his family on 'exile', have a convenient 'accident' happen to their ship or caravan. "Besides, they're sending out a welcoming party. I'm afraid Lord Eric has not learned from his defeat two decades ago. Are our troops armed, Merlinus?"

"Everyone's armed with anti-cavalry weaponry," Merlinus nodded.

Duchess Mary whispered some instructions from the ring. Pearl saw a brief glimpse of a battle, some seven centuries ago, taking place on a bridge. Heavy cavalry dropped like flies against a disciplined rank of axes and spears.

"Good. Lancers and axemen to the fore!" Pearl shouted. "Everyone else, line up behind them and support! The idiots are showing us the courtesy of coming to us! Hold the bridges at all costs! Aunt Alice, mama, harass them from above!"

The cavaliers of Laus were well-drilled, it seemed. Pearl watched as javelins and arrows bounced off their tightly grouped shields. Alice and Lyn realized this and aimed for the mounts, instead.

Still, two dozen cavaliers made their way to the bridge. Lyn, Wolt, and Lou picked off the supporting archers while Alice and Al charged the cavaliers twice, scattering them and killing three.

The cavaliers charged.

"Brace!" Pearl shouted, and the melee began in earnest. "Reserves, into the fray!"

Pearl's defenses were based around Bors and Marcus, who had the thickest armor, while the rest of the forces did the real killing. Alice swooped down every once in a while to halt the enemy's momentum.

The bridges became killzones more than battlefields.

"They're breaking! Press the attack! Ellen, heal Bors! Lou, take Chad back and give him vulneraries!" Pearl cried, and flinched as Highwind snapped the neck of one of the cavaliers who had fallen off his horse.

Laus's troops slowly came to realize that they were being held at two chokepoints. By then, it was already too late for most of them. Like ordinary men, they broke. Six cavaliers managed to survive, and charged in the opposite direction at full speed.

"Pirates to the south!" Al shouted from above.

Pearl looked to the south. There weren't many pirates. He looked to the west, and saw that there weren't many Laus troops left, either.

She guessed that he had just defeated Laus's main force. The other troops were probably acting as guides and scouts to the Bernese forces marching on Ostia.

"Chad, Lou, Allen, Lance, Ellen, Madelyn, head south! Sir Lance, you're in charge. Don't let them get to the beach! Protect the village! Rest of you, to the west!"

"Form up!" Pearl said, landing herself in the rear. "Close ranks and march!"

"We need another healer. Two more would be great," Alice said, landing next to Kayleth.

"We'll make do with what we have," Kayleth grunted. He watched one troubadour come to scout the army's positions.

Kayleth increased the magnification of the spyglass, sure that he had seen wrong.

"Hey, you over there!" the troubadour said, pointing at Roy.

"Huh? Me?" Roy said, not quite sure what to make of one he thought was an enemy.

"Yes, you! You're the leader of this army, aren't you?"

Pearl saw the minor commotion that a lone troubadour was making, and urged her wyvern to the front row.

"Erm, yes?"

"Huh? It's Clarine!" Pearl said, excited.

"Kyaa!" Clarine tried to retreat, but Pearl had already jumped off her wyvern and attached herself to Clarine's back.

"What's going on here?" Marcus whispered to Roy, uncomfortable about the level of intimacy that Pearl was displaying towards the stranger.

Kayleth arrived, and lifted Pearl off Clarine. "Hmph. So I wasn't mistaken. Clarine, we're in the middle of battle right now. You can use healing staves, no? Stay in the rear, and be ready for instructions."

"Eep!" Clarine said, recognizing Kayleth.

Kayleth raised an eyebrow.

"U-understood, Lord," Clarine stammered, and proceeded to put as much distance between Kayleth and herself as possible.

"Umm… acquaintance of yours?" Roy asked Pearl.

"This is Lady Clarine, daughter of Lord Pent, Count of Riglay and former Mage General of Etruria. I stay with her family when I go to school," Pearl explained.

"Why's she terrified of godfather?"

Pearl giggled, reminiscing, "That's a secret."

"… Why's she more afraid of you?"

"That's even more of a secret," Pearl grinned the grin of a Cheshire cat toying with a mouse. "But she loves me as much as she fears me. It's fine. It keeps things interesting."

"Remnants of enemy infantry, dead ahead!" Marcus called out.

Alice dived into the enemy formation with all the force of a primordial god wielding a thunderbolt. Two javelins ended the lives of an archer and a cavalier. Her sword, originally meant for slaying dragons, easily carved through the helmet of the armored Knight.

Unexpectedly, the myrmidon in the group survived the pass. The injury to his left arm was deep, but not life threatening in the long run. Pearl had to congratulate the man for the rare accomplishment.

"Huh?! It's that insolent little boy!" Clarine said, seething, and rode forward.

"Clarine, wait!" Pearl shouted, chasing after her.

"What?! Follow them!" Kayleth urged the others.

"You there!" Clarine shouted, not a dozen feet away from the swordsman.

"What! You're still here?! Idiot!" the swordsman snarled.

Pearl saw that the myrmidon was Bernese. She knew it was a rare development, since myrmidons tended to be Sacaen.

"Still here?! Idiot?! You have the nerve to dump me in the middle of a battlefield and say that?! I could have been killed!" Clarine shrieked in outrage.

"Then you're lucky to be alive. Is that all? I'm fighting Bern here," the swordsman said, eyeing Alice circling about in the sky warily.

"Erm… this man rescued you, Clarine?" Pearl asked. The swordsman hesitated from attacking her.

"Rescued?! Why, I never! He's simply going to walk away after abandoning me! A proper gentleman would take responsibility for his actions!"

"Responsibility? Responsibility to do what?" Pearl saw that the confusion was genuine, and discounted the possibility that he was a noble or knight of Laus. She thought she saw traces of Sacaen heritage in him.

"When a gentleman rescues a Lady, he is responsible for escorting her to her mansion! I've never heard any stories where the man just abandons the Lady."

That was true. Pearl had gone through Clarine's section of the Riglay manor's library. The gentleman 'took responsibility' by marrying the Lady, always, without exception, and without a single deviation from routine. It was kind of depressing how predictable the stories became.

"… What in the world are you talking about?"

"Besides, did you not have a grudge against Bern?! We're fighting Bern! You're the idiot! You shouldn't be turning your blade toward us!"

"Wait, what?! You there, on the wyvern, is that true?"

"Yes. Who did you think betrayed the Lycian League? Yes we have a couple of wyverns but that doesn't mean we fight for Bern. If you have a grudge against Bern, you'll tell us how many men Marquess Laus has left," Pearl said, wondering if the swordsman was going to join them.

"I see… most of the Marquess's troops are away, guiding the Bernese. He has six cavaliers left," the swordsman turned to face Clarine. "You, brat. I'm joining your army. Happy now?"

"Brat?! But you're joining… erm… I suppose?" Clarine said, just as confused as the swordsman was. "Wait! What's important is not that you're fighting Bern, but protecting me!"

"Wait, why? What do you have against Bern?" Kayleth asked.

"You… you're the owner of Seventh Heaven."

"Hmm? A citizen of Bulgar?"

"While you were at Araphen, the Bernese army put the city to the sword. Your inn is occupied by the new governor now."

"Ah… I see. And you survived because you looked to be a Bernese man?" Kayleth said.

"Papa, they stole our house!" Pearl shouted, outraged. "Those imbeciles! I'll make Zephiel clean out stables for the rest of his life! I'll make the Wyvern Generals clean the sewers for the rest of their lives! I'll have the Conclave fed to the wyverns as ground meat!"

"We'll crucify them when we take the city back," Kayleth said. "For now, what is your name, boy?"

"I am Rutgar."

"I am Kayleth of Winterfell, and by the blood in my veins I swear to you that this army will bring Bern to its knees."

"That is all I ask for."

"Good. Clarine, heal him."

"Heh? But-"

A quick glance from Kayleth sent Clarine riding to Rutgar's side.

Kayleth decided to wait until the group that went to the beach returned, and took the moment to interrogate Clarine.

"Clarine. What are you doing here?"

"Eek!"

"Don't run away," Kayleth rolled his eyes. "Your answer might actually be important."

"Why, my answers are always important!"

"Then answer my questions in a passably articulate manner without going off on tangents. What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for my brother!"

"Your brother? Why would your brother be in Lycia? Where are your bodyguards? Actually, why would your parents send you of all people to look for Klein?"

Clarine fidgeted. Pearl snorted. Clarine had a terrible poker face. She rarely had a need to lie, after all. It was adorable.

Both Pearl and Kayleth had known her since she was eight years old.

"So… you found out, somehow, probably from a document on Lord Pent's desk, that Klein is away in Lycia. You wanted to see him, so you told your parents to bring him back. They couldn't, probably because he was, or is, fulfilling his duties as Archery General of Etruria. You snuck out, very brave of you by the way, and paved your way in gold until you arrived here, where you got abducted somehow. An excellent story, Clarine, I thank you," Kayleth said, gauging Clarine's reaction to every sentence.

He didn't particularly care about the details, but the part about Klein was intriguing. "Did you get to see what exactly Klein is doing here?"

Clarine shook her head. Kayleth doubted that she'd remember what was to her a completely extraneous part of the document, and did not pry further. "Idiot girl… it is a wonder you're still alive. Have you still not told your parents where you are?"

"I'm not an idiot girl!"

"You're causing your parents to worry, when you could have easily prevented it, and that is cause enough to call you an idiot girl," Kayleth snarled. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? Do you have any idea what Marquess Laus would have done to you given just a little more time? Do you have any idea how your willful defiance is worrying your parents? Isn't filial piety an essential quality of a Lady? You will write a letter to them at once as soon as we take the citadel. Is that understood?"

"Yes… my Lord," Clarine said, on the verge of tears.

"There, there," Pearl said, mounting Clarine's horse and patting the girl's head. "I'm sure they'll be thrilled to hear that you're alright."

"Lord Kayleth!" Lance shouted, at the head of the group that had been sent to handle the pirates.

"Sir Lance, any casualties?"

"A few minor injuries, and my horse dead," Lance hung his head, shamed at the last part.

"Horses are expensive. There will be two additional hours of lance mastery drills and evasive riding drills for you per day until Sir Marcus sees fit to relieve you. Double latrine and guard duties for two weeks, too. A cavalier who has lost his horse might as well die and get it over with. Let this be a lesson to you."

"Yes, my Lord."

"All forces, to the castle!" Kayleth emphasized his order with two deep blows of his war horn.

"To the castle, all forces!" Pearl shouted, blowing two shrill notes with her whistle.

Kayleth was surprised to find that Pearl had instilled some basic formation discipline in the troops. Well-armored soldiers and scouts were in the vanguard, followed by other primarily melee troops. The rear consisted of ranged troops and healers. That the army fell into this formation as soon as the orders were given was impressive.

Clarine had the annoying tendency to want to head to the front of the group but Wolt was doing a good job at playing the apologetic Knight holding the Lady back.

Pearl beamed at Kayleth's expression. "The more bruises in drills the less bleeding in battles. The more bleeding in drills the less dying in battle."

"Good girl," Kayleth patted her head.

Three minutes at a brisk marching pace put what remained of the Lycian Alliance army on top of the hill overlooking the city of Laus.

"… With a city like this, they should've been able to provide at least three Legions for the defense of Araphen," Kayleth said. "It looks like two have been sent away so they could share some of the spoils when the Bernese sack Ostia."

"That's their endgame? How pathetic," Pearl spat in disgust. "The Lycian League is an aberration. There's no viable way to enforce the Covenant for mutual defense."

"They became soft. It will be hard to shape them up to fight Bern. I doubt even Lycia as a hole can even handle the Duchy of Hamor."

"But… think about it this way, papa. These people, the people of Laus I mean, have been so oppressed until now, that they should be a hardy people. Natural selection should have done for it what it has done to Hamor."

Kayleth cocked his head to one side. "Hmm… true. Laus is probably the realm with the greatest amount of natural selection."

"Precisely. Oppress them the right way, and I think it could become a viable training ground for competent and well-motivated soldiers," said Madelyn.

"Enemies up ahead!" Wolt shouted.

"I'm tired," said Pearl. "Mama, kill everyone. Everyone, support her."

"Wait. Lyn, leave Marquess Laus alive, and take the troops with you. I want them to gain some experience," Kayleth added.

"What if they die?" Pearl asked.

"Then they're not worth investing time and gold in, are they?" Kayleth felt nauseated with the realization that it was unlikely he'd ever find the time and the resources to raise an army as good as his dead Legion was. Two decades of combat experience down the sewers in just one battle. It was too soon for him to take an active role in combat. His judgment was in question.

Dieck was an able fighter, one might almost say Centurion material. The rest, other than perhaps Roy and Wolt, were not particularly promising. It was too early to tell, of course, but at least Madelyn seemed to have the excellent reaction timing and uncanny instincts for swordmastery that Lyn possessed.

There were nine cavaliers, including Marquess Erik of House Laus. Kayleth vowed that today was the beginning of the end for that wretched House.

The plains surrounding castle Laus was cavalry territory. Without archers, however, the momentum of their charge was blunted by Alice, Al, and Thany swooping down occasionally to break their formation. Alice's mount dragged two off their mounts, rose, and let them drop.

If Erik had decided to fight at the walls, with all of his forces, the day would not have ended well for Lycia's finest. Thankfully, he was an idiot given to ostentatious ideas about flowery cavalry charges.

Arrows and magical fire cut down two more.

"Ready javelins and hand-axes!" Pearl called out. "Steady, steady!"

"Loose!" Kayleth commanded, and three others went down. As Erik and his last bodyguard tried to turn around in order to retreat, Rutgar cut down the bodyguard. An excellent javelin throw by Marcus speared Erik off his horse.

"I-I surrender!" shrieked Erik.

"All forces, advance to the citadel and take it. Inform the guards that their Marquess is dead, and so will they if they do not surrender. I will rejoin you shortly. Merlinus, leave four horses with me."

"Godfather, he surrendered. I do not think-"

"You will be silent, and you will do as you are told," Kayleth snarled in Roy's ears, and his words hit with the strength of an alpha-predator's growl. "You have your marching orders."

Marcus came to pick up his master and prevent him from seeing a grisly execution.

"Wait, what is it you want? Do you want money? My family can pay you a King's ransom!" Erik tried to persuade the tactician.

Kayleth paid no mind, and his boots crashed into the back of Erik's right knee in order to immobilize him. Erik screamed quite predictably. It was boring, but Kayleth did have a duty to perform.

"Normally," said Kayleth, conversationally as he tied ropes to the horses and the screaming man's limbs, "I'd give a traitor to the attentions of one of Hamor's professional torturers. A thousand years' history of innovation, tradition, and practice made perfect. For garbage like you, I'd assign at least three years."

"Oh, please, God no!"

"Pfft... God is on vacation, little man. Has always been. Let me tell you a secret," Kayleth leaned in. "Our oldest religions tell us that gods created us. That is a lie. We have created gods to explain what we cannot. But even before that, the more intelligent among us created gods to control the more gullible."

"Please! Have mercy!" Erik squirmed. "I only did what I thought was best for Laus! It was politics! Business! Lycia will not win against Bern's armies!"

"Did you know Bern has sided with dragons?"

"... What?!" Erik regarded him as he would an insane man.

"Heh. You were a pawn, Erik. I'm doing you a favor," Kayleth put on his gloves. "First, I will take away your sight. Then, I will take away your hearing. Then, I will feed you your eyes and ears. Then, I'll wrap your face with your own entrails. Don't worry. I have enough elixir to keep you alive for the finale. Then, I'll tear all of your limbs off. Then, I will put your head on a pike. But first," Kayleth plunged down with a knife. The armor was weak at the side, and the knife easily slipped through to the stomach. "I'll let you feel the acids in your stomach."

Erik screamed as he never had before. It was delicious.

That caused Kayleth to laugh out loud, guffawing sardonically.

"So, you try to kill my wife, sister, and daughters. You try to kill me twice. You see to the death of all of my comrades and most of my very few friends. And somehow, you think I shouldn't make this personal? It's all business? Business of the great game of politics?" Kayleth's boot came crashing down on his outstretched fingers, causing the Marquess Laus to scream in pain.

"Maggots like you mistake the kindness of others as a right," Kayleth snarled, his boots crashing down on the left knee. "The idiots who make the mistake of showing those like you kindness are always repaid with treachery. Note Eliwood and Hector. Fortunately for Elibe and unfortunately for you, I am a far cry from those two pathetic weaklings. I've been accused of many things, but being a weak and mewling cunt is not among them. Well, there was one, but I killed my father. You will die."

Laus continued to scream for the pain. Kayleth paid no heed, counting off thirty silver coins.

"You can't do this! I'm Marquess Laus!"

"I can't?" Kayleth raised an eyebrow. "Observe. I can. My daughter, Pearl, will be Marchioness Laus by right of conquest. All three generations of your family will be put to the sword. Not so overtly, of course, but you know what I mean. If I remember correctly, you have three children left?"

"No, you lowborn-"

"Actually, I am of higher birth than you are. You like according authority based on birth, don't you?" Kayleth slit a line across Marquess Laus's stomach, and inserted the thirty pieces of silver. "I'd usually offer you a chance at last words, but… who am I kidding?!" Kayleth cackled, "this is you we're talking about. May the crows feast upon your worthless corpse!"

With that, Kayleth's proceeded to do all that he had promised to do.

* * *

"Citizens of Laus, hear me!" Kayleth shouted from the balcony overlooking the main square. It was convenient that the City Council and the main square were built long before the two doddering idiots who ruled Laus for the last few decades were conceived.

"You've suffered, as have your fathers and grandfathers, the tyranny of Laus's ruling family! They've extorted from you more taxes than is considered within the realm of reason, dragged your sons into extended and illegal military service, and took your daughters as slaves! Worst of all," Kayleth hissed. "He has dragged you into treason and dishonor against the Lycian Alliance. The Covenant of mutual brotherhood and defense was broken!"

The crowds milled about below, and though many nodded at the accusations he brought to bear against the ruling family of Laus, they dared not speak out their beliefs.

Those who had dared were no longer among the living.

"No longer! For the Marquess is dead!" Kayleth lifted high Eric's head. "And the ruling family of Laus will be exiled! Taxes will be lowered and forced contracts of indenture voided! Tithes are suspended indefinitely! All this I say with the authority of Pearl, your new Marchioness by right of conquest! All hail Marchioness Pearl!" Kayleth pointed out Pearl, who smiled and waved down at the crowds.

There was a shocked silence for a moment.

Then, the crowd burst out in cheers, laughter, and shouts of victory. Some even shed tears of joy. Those with hats threw them in the air.

"Long live the Marchioness! Long live our liberator!"

The citadel's staff started going around passing out bread and beer. The coronation of a new ruler required a celebration, after all. It was akin to a holiday.

The crowd noticed, and a new outpour of adulation and goodwill washed over Pearl.

Kayleth chuckled. Commoners were so easy to fool no matter the day or place. Their optimism would die down some when they learn who Pearl's father was, of course, but in general Kayleth had reason to believe that they would be fooled by the ridiculously cute, little, and young exterior of his daughter.

Not that they should be worried about Pearl, but they should be worried about him. Very worried. If the Lycian Alliance survived, Kayleth intended for Laus to provide the bulk of the funds and soldiers needed to continue the war. With decades of exploitation at the previous Marquesses' hands, they would actually praise Pearl for lowering the tax from say fifty to forty percent and required labor levies from a hundred to ninety days.

The dragons had to be banished once more, no matter the cost. Much of the blood and sweat expended in that effort would come from the citizens of Laus.

* * *

Considering whether a 3ds is worth getting.

Drifters is godlike. If you enjoyed Hellsing, highly recommended. Hard to pick out mature manga these days what with all the garbage the industry keeps spewing.

Another series was recommended to me, Sword Art Online. It is childish garbage of the worst sort and recommended to no one above sixteen years of age. It has teenage wish fulfillment fantasy written all over it, and of the creepiest sort at that. It's like Twilight, only for boys, and the quality of writing is at a similar level, too. The two things it has going for it are the high-budget action scenes and LiSA. The series is insulting at best.

Team Four Star's DBZ abridged comes highly recommended. It's parody. It makes fun of Goku's borderline retardation and absentee parenthood, Krillin's uselessness, the non-Saiyans' irrelevancy, etc. Piccolo and Vegeta, of course, are godlike even in a parody. I was afraid it would destroy my good memories of DBZ, but it didn't. Cuts off the episodes-long spirit bombs, kamehamehas, etc so it's very manageable.

Ever since I've learnt to think I rarely found enjoyable shonen manga, but Beelzebub is awesome. It's not pretentious.

Deadman Wonderland's chapter 52 came out. God exists.

Apparently GTO, or Great Teacher Onizuka, has a prequel. It is just as good, with a lower budget and more comedy.

Hajime no Ippo has passed the 1,000 chapters mark. I lose all respect for a manga that just doesn't know when to die but kudos to Morikawa. Yes, this series should've died years ago.


	8. Recovery

The remnants of the legitimate Lycian army made good time to Thria.

It would take time and an official approval from the Lycian League, of course, but Pearl was for the time being Marchioness Laus with the overwhelming support of its populace though not its nobles. The guards of the citadel had surrendered easily upon hearing of their liege's death, Erik not having been a particularly generous or well-loved master.

A squadron of ten Lausian cavaliers and thirty soldiers of assorted specialties accompanied Pearl as honor guard. Kayleth and Madelyn had interviewed them thoroughly to ascertain their loyalties. As Kayleth suspected, the Lausian soldiers tended to be an assorted mixture of opportunists who cared more about being fed and watered than for misguided loyalty to Erik. In an ideal world, Kayleth would have replaced them. Elibe as it was then was hardly an ideal world.

It helped that Pearl had worked on them for hours. Excess wealth that Erik's family had hoarded was confiscated and being redistributed in the form of bread to the hungry masses. Such charity was unheard of among the Lausians. Pearl also stayed for the mass at the main cathedral the day after the battle for Laus, and spoke of a coming time of great tribulation as well as hope. Already, the local clergymen had proclaimed her the Saint in her aspect as the Liberator reborn. A curiously religious following had emerged, and the more downtrodden the Lausian, the more likely it was that he or she believed in her. Most Lausians happened to be quite downtrodden.

By the time Pearl left, thousands of citizens had gathered at the gates to see her off. She was a little perplexed at the weeping populace, and assured them all she would come back, hopefully after saving Ostia from Bern. A near-riot erupted as particularly zealous believers approached to kiss the path through which she traveled.

Kayleth, with the help of Sir Bors, contacted the Ostian intelligence officers stationed at Laus, and arranged for the ship carrying the late Marquess Erik's family into exile to be sunk. The Ostians poisoned them all first, ensuring that none would escape. It would be reported as a tragic accident caused by oversight in repairing the ship's hull. Kayleth thought it quite fitting to use the traditional punishment for traitors during the Scouring: annihilating all three generations of the traitor's family.

On their way to Thria, Roy and Kayleth managed to rally about the same numbers of stragglers who had escaped the disaster at Araphen. Roy was overjoyed to see that the majority were Pheraens. The Pheraens, for their part, were glad to be reunited with the son of their liege.

Almost half a Legion now marched on Thria, where reinforcements were likely to number in Legions. Kayleth recalled that few of the soldiers at the mustering were Thrian, and surmised that they were too occupied with piracy in the south. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

Pearl snored lightly, her head resting on the wayward Princess Bern's bosoms. It was time for her post-dinner nap, and she was tired from the hard pace the Lycian army had marched to, missing her post-lunch and pre-dinner naps due to the bumpiness of the roads, falling asleep almost as soon as she had finished the meal. Crumbs from the pie she had devoured not moments ago dripped along with a little drool from her mouth.

Madelyn observed her sister in fascination. How one could be so laid back and utterly oblivious she had no idea. The rest of her family, after all, was composed of some very tense people. She knew her father had slept perhaps five hours in the last three days, worrying about everything. His refusal to blow out the candles irritated her mother to no end, though she did well to conceal it. His mind seemed somewhat recovered, but he was even more paranoid and obsessive than was usual. Only Pearl could put him at ease with any measure of certainty, and she was usually only awake for half the day. Even with hypnotism, that left him unattended for a quarter of the day during which he was prone to talk nonsense to himself and gibber unintelligibly.

Her mother, aunt, and she had to take turns watching him. There was no telling what he might do, and there were already so many rumors concerning Marquess Erik's death.

"Do you want me to take her?" Alice asked.

"It's alright," Guinevere wiped Pearl's mouth with her handkerchief.

Alice thought that sentiment understandable. It was only at Pearl's intervention that nothing had happened to the Princess, yet. Her brother was in the mood to do all that he did to Erik and worse. Legends were made of people he had taken time to kill.

His reputation, the Pheraens, and Pearl's curious mix of popularity and mysticism kept the Lausians in line.

Pearl's tent was by far the most luxurious in the Lycian camp. It was the only tent where women could bathe without being peeped at, unless one counted Pearl's drooling and squeezing. It could fit two dozen people comfortably, and had all the creature comforts she could desire. There was even a proper bed with sheets of silk and comfortable cushions of varying size. The late Marquess Erik did not care for discomfort on the field.

"She doesn't notice if you're quick enough in switching a pillow for yourself," Roy hinted.

"It takes great speed to do that," Alice warned. Pearl was almost insufferable when woken accidentally.

Kayleth entered the tent, accompanied by the one maid Pearl had dragged along. As Madelyn expected, his eyes flared at the proximity between Pearl and Guinevere. She noticed that he didn't bother to hide his expression these days, leaving him with a mask of contempt, indifference, or rage most of the time.

The Princess gulped audibly, causing Pearl to groan and shift her balance. Kayleth chuckled, thinking that at least someone was showing him the proper fear that was his due. If the Lycian army failed to secure Ostia before the Bernese forces arrived, Kayleth had a great many plans for her. Conferring guilt by association was hardly logical, but whenever he saw her, he could not keep the image of the sneering Zephiel out of his mind.

"No, I am not here to kill you. I've come to you about this book you lent me," Kayleth held the copy in his hand. "I need to know more about this... ah... 'Sword of Seals', as the founder calls it. What else is left out of this copy?"

"There isn't much... as you would know, father wasn't well-versed in ancient lore."

"He was well-versed in little," Kayleth could not help but sneer. "And he even had the galls to leave behind a pile of horse dung for me to clean. If I were any angrier, I think I would end the line of Hartmut."

"Kayleth!" admonished Alice.

"You live at my sufferance, and because Pearl would be hurt if you were to die. That being said, I would think it is in your best interests to answer my question to the best of your abilities. Now."

"Will you be this petulant even when I become Queen?" Kayleth was amused by the Princess's unfounded backbone.

"Whatever gave you the impression that humanity will triumph? Even if humanity triumphs, whatever gave you the impression that you will become Queen Bern? You do not know it yet because you've never faced a dragon before, but anyone who has seen one can tell you that they have felt an emotion that humans were never supposed to face after the Scouring. The fear of extinction. And fear is one of the greatest motivators of our species."

"Please, can we go one day without your bickering?" pleaded Alice.

"To answer your question, Count, there are some other books I've had access to as a Princess," Guinevere continued from where she had left off. "They say that Hartmut had a lover-"

"Of course he had a lover," Kayleth rolled his eyes. "Everyone knew he had lovers."

"And this particular lover was a dragon," Guinevere finished with a small smile of satisfaction.

Alice was amused by the way her brother's face contorted from confusion to shock and fury.

"What?!"

"He even had a child with the dragon. The reason we know the Sword of Seals works is because his heir, the second King of Bern, saw the sealed form of that dragon and their child."

"Is there any weakness to this Sword of Seals? Can dragons once sealed be unsealed?" Kayleth muttered to himself.

"I'm not sure."

"I wasn't asking you," the tactician dismissed, musing out loud. "Of course you wouldn't know. Only Zephiel would know. But my question is why Hartmut simply did not kill the whore and the bastard. They must have been too dangerous to leave alive. Why would Hartmut ever leave a bloody dragon alive? I only let Ninian live because I was curious. Hartmut had seen and killed enough dragons not to have been curious. Could it be that he actually felt something for the whore?"

"Language, Kayleth," Alice snapped.

"Pearl's asleep. Princess, do you know if there was ever a mention of 'Idoun' or 'Demon Dragon' in these books?"

"They are one and the same," Guinevere confirmed. "She was too powerful to slay. The rest of the Heroes bought time for Hartmut to seal her."

"So it is that dragon," Kayleth shuddered at the memory of the psychological torture he had endured. "The Heroes did not bother with unsealing it and destroying it completely. Again, we're paying for their mistakes. This time, we'll have to ensure that dragon dies for good."

"Master Roy, someone from the Church is looking for you and Princess Guinevere!" Merlinus said, entering with Allen and Lance.

"Allen, Lance, do not let the clergyman escape!" Kayleth snapped, pointing in the direction Merlinus came from.

"How did he know the Princess is with us?!" Roy said.

"He's here to take away my pillow! Kill him!" Pearl said to everyone. It was clear she was drowsy and quite likely believed she was dreaming.

"The Princess is not your pillow!" said Alice.

"Erm…" Guinevere started as though to speak. "I think I will be fine. Why don't we listen to what he has to say?"

"Pfft. No good ever came of listening to clergyman," Kayleth snarled.

"But he knew that the Princess was here. Shouldn't we at least find out how he came upon that information?" Roy said.

"Tsk. Why not. Merlinus, bring the clergyman."

"What about his bodyguard?"

"Disarm both of them."

Merlinus went away to fetch the clergyman.

"Princess, you must not say anything unnecessary," Kayleth said, turning to Guinevere. "Killing clergyman is nasty business. The Church moans and whines all the time, so annoying. If you tell him more than you need to, I'll have to kill him. Understood?"

"Yes… my Lord."

"For the last time, I am not your Lord. Find some other Lord. You can take Roy."

"Papa!" Pearl admonished.

"Oh, never mind. That'd be against the interests of my goddaughter. Looks like you'll have to do without one, then."

Merlinus arrived in the middle of the camp with the clergyman and his bodyguard.

"… Wow. Now I know what ugly as sin means," Kayleth muttered.

"You're too used to me, papa. Not everyone can be as adorable."

Guinevere gave an embarrassed snort, and struggled to cover it.

"I'll get to you later, Princess," Pearl purred with a lazy smile.

"Master Roy?" the clergyman said, approaching the fire. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Saul, a priest of the Elimine Church."

"In case you haven't noticed, there is only one Church. Tens of thousands of burned husks attest to that fact. Good for you. Hurry up."

"Count Kayleth, I presume? Though I'd heard you were dead."

"Rumors of my death were much-exaggerated, I assure you."

"Ah! You must be Princess Guinevere! You are as beautiful as the rumors say!" Saul cried, proceeding to kneel and kiss her hand.

Pearl beat him back with her father's cane. "No! My toy!"

"And you're the new Marchioness Laus! You're even more adorable than the rumors say!"

"But I'm still not sharing my toy," Pearl said, brandishing the stick.

"Your business, priest," Kayleth growled.

"Ahem. Yes. About that. Princess, I assume you have the Fire Emblem with you?"

"What makes you think I have it?" the Princess said, as wary as a defensive cat.

"The Archbishop of Bern has informed us that that the Fire Emblem disappeared from the vaults of the palace. It disappeared on your day of disappearance."

"The world's oldest intelligence service, I tell you," Kayleth muttered.

"I was sent by the Church to confirm. Why did you take the Fire Emblem?"

"… It is the key to awaken a powerful sword that can seal dragons. That is according to the legends passed down through the generations of Bernese royalty, at least. My brother worried about it greatly, and that was cause enough to take it."

"I see. Now I must ask you, as representative of the Church, what you intend to do with it."

"What does it have to do with you?"

"You know very well what it has to do with the Church, Princess. We do not care what sword it unseals. It has a very important religious significance."

"I will release the sword, and with its power the dragons will be banished once more. Without the dragons, the Bernese have lost far too many men to continue a war against the rest of the continent while occupying both Ilia and Sacae. Peace will come."

"Good. In that case, let me and my companion accompany you on this journey."

"You offer your services as a healer or a clergyman?" Kayleth asked.

"Both. My companion, Dorothy, is an able archer, cook, and huntress."

"Useful. In this army, my word is law on battlefield tactics and operational security. Roy's word is law on political objectives. Is that acceptable?"

"I don't see why not. Though I am a little worried about your-"

"Careful, clergyman. Tread lightly," Kayleth growled. "I do not throw away lives needlessly. If I sacrifice you, it will be for a damnably good reason."

"I see. I accept."

"And you, Dorothy?" Kayleth said.

"Ah. Erm… yes, I accept."

"Excellent. Report to Merlinus at once for quarters. For the time being, you'll be in Pearl's group."

* * *

Thria was a day away, but Kayleth decided to allow the troops rest for this night.

Marquess Orun was Hector's half-brother, sharing the same father. He was supposed to be one of the staunchest supporters of Hector in the Lycian Council.

Curiously, Thria only sent token troops to Araphen. Kayleth had seen perhaps thirty Thrian soldiers on the roster for the lottery that took place to determine who stayed and who escaped. He had a roster because someone needed to fix the results of the lottery.

If Laus was any indication, trust was a dwindling currency. The remnants of the Lycian army had to be capable of storming the citadel, if need be.

"Your wine, milord."

Kayleth opened his eyes and saw Al. At the rate things were going, even Al was not above suspicion. Not even Roy was above suspicion. Kayleth trusted them because he had no choice in the matter. He hated being denied choice. He knew he was being paranoid but such was the result of a betrayal as great as Zephiel's.

"Go on. Take a break," Kayleth knew his butler, Sebastian, would at least hold on to Ostia until he got there. His first and probably the last friend would not betray him. He was fortunate he had decided to expand his business. Being in a central position, Ostia was the location Kayleth chose for the militant branch of his business, Ahnenerbe.

"Erm... about that, there are two men at the gate of the camp. They wish to speak to you."

"Their names, boy," Kayleth hissed. "Or their description, at least? Have you learnt nothing in the last seven years?"

Al recoiled, inching himself away to a safer place. "They call themselves Asteion and Cuam, milord. They're heavily armed."

"Search them, take their weapons, have a physician examine them for disease or poison, cuff them, and get Alice and Marcus to ready their swords at their necks. Bring them to me."

Kayleth wondered why two Bernese Knights would elect to come to an enemy camp. If they were sincere in wanting to join him, it would confirm his belief that the entire Kingdom had been duped into believing that something had happened to Alice and that he had something to do with the conspiracy. He did have a reputation for ruthlessness and ambition, after all. Only those close to Alice would know that he would do nothing that could hurt her.

Were he Zephiel, he would've sent the Hamorian Legions to Ilia. They were the best bet in overcoming the Ilian mercenaries and it was impossible for either Alice or he to be there. Since Zephiel knew Alice was alive, he couldn't risk keeping the Hamorian Legions at Ilia. They would be withdrawn to guard Bern interior, providing an impregnable defense for the homeland and police the people while the troops from the rest of the country strike with impunity.

With a few dragons to guard the chokepoints that one had to pass in order to get at Hamor from without, news that he and Alice were alive would never reach his vassals and kinsmen. For the news to reach them would be the beginning of the end for Zephiel's reign. With dragons in the equation, though, he was not at all certain whether the rest of humanity could go on the counterattack. He couldn't even be certain of Pearl's continued well-being.

The loss of Ostia would signal immediate defeat. There was no point in fighting, then. Even if he were allowed command of the Etrurian army, it would take time to prepare for dragons. Worse, the 'civilized' Etrurians had few conflicts between neighboring lords. Their army had little practice at war, save for the Royal Mage Corps and the forces occupying the Western Isles.

Even if Ostia were saved, he had to get his hands on the Divine Weapons. Other methods were too unreliable or costly. A lightning raid to retrieve Barigan's lance and Hanon's bow. Brammimond's tome he dismissed as impossible. With any luck, he would not have divulged that information to the dragon that had tortured him. No one knew that he knew the locations of all of the weapons.

Elimine's staff and tome were safely kept at the Tower of Light. None could know where the new hiding places for Durandal and Armads were. There was the difficulty of reaching the village of humans and dragons but Forblaze should be safe there.

"Brother?"

Kayleth looked up to see Alice and Marcus escort Asteion and Cuam into the tent.

"Gentlemen, I bid you welcome. I believe five minutes are in order to determine whether you live or die. I suggest you start explaining why you're here."

"We're no traitors," Cuam insisted, his face paling.

"If anything, we're the only loyalists," Asteion agreed.

"I see. Do you have any proof of such loyalties?" Kayleth sneered.

"We didn't tell the Bernese army to march back and destroy the greatest threat to the King's plans?" Cuam offered hopefully.

"Lord Kayleth, you know the two of us," Asteion tried to reason with more calm than his compatriot, who was beginning to sweat. "Lord Burmann was our liege Lord. A worthy man to follow. He believed in you."

"He also believed in Zephiel."

"So did you."

"Touche," Kayleth chuckled. "It is as though one day, the world decided to turn upside down."

"Anyhow, my point is, he believed in you. You believe in Alice-"

"Her Grace," Kayleth growled.

"Her Grace," Cuam agreed. "We didn't believe that you would have anything to do with her death. Your closer kinsmen were incensed by what they were told, and prepared immediately to punish the outlanders."

"We told them it was suspicious, but they wouldn't listen. We decided to desert, and find the truth for ourselves."

"How did you know I'd be in Lycia?"

"We went to Bulgar first, but we found that you had left earlier. The only reason you would have left was to prepare the defenses at Araphen, where Lycian forces stood a chance," Asteion glanced at the weapon on Cuam's neck.

"Alice, Marcus, you can sheathe your swords."

"Our cuffs?" Cuam suggested.

"Stay on until the end of this conversation. So, now you found us. Alice is alive. So am I. Zephiel has betrayed us. That does not mean he betrayed you. Whose side are you on?"

"As I said, we owe Lord Burmann our lives. We pledged to serve our Duchess to our dying breath. I don't recall having made the same pledge to the King."

Kayleth didn't detect any of the usual telltale signs of deceit, even in his state of heightened paranoia. He delved deeper into their body language, their tones when they spoke, the words they chose. He realized that his plan for controlling the Duchy with his sister had worked better than he had expected. The two adored his sister in the way Knights were supposed to adore their liege. Perhaps even more.

Besides which, if they were traitors, they could have brought the Bernese army on them.

* * *

"Thria… governed by Lord Orun, stepbrother of the late Marquess Ostia. Estimated population of six thousand within the castle. Lord Orun is staunchly pro-League. Haven," Marcus said.

"Seems like the soldiers sent to Araphen have not returned," Madelyn said, observing through the spyglass. "Although substantial, the number of guards is too small for a city of that size. Ah, ten soldiers approaching in Thrian colors!"

"All troops, battle-readiness," Kayleth said, blowing on his horn. "Roy, front and center."

It took a few minutes for the welcoming party to reach Roy. Roy had passed through Thria on a number of occasions going back and forth from Ostia and Pherae.

He recognized Wagner, Lord Orun's advisor.

"Oh? Lord Roy!" Wagner said.

"Hello, Wagner."

"Hmph… it's only been a couple of weeks since you passed through. What brings you to Thria again? What news from the front?"

"We're here to ask Lord Orun for supplies and reinforcements. Araphen has fallen… Marquess Hector has been slain... Ostia is in danger."

Kayleth wondered if he was the only one who had noticed the lack of surprise on Wagner's face. A Lycian lord's adviser may at least contrive to look unhappy or fearful at the losses the Lycian forces had suffered, but there was none of that, either. Pearl confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

"That is terrible! Of course Thria will provide supplies and reinforcements. Lord Orun, however, has fallen ill with a terrible disease and cannot rise from bed. You understand," Pearl saw that the man was not worried in the slightest about Lord Orun's predicament. She would make sure to mention this to Marquess Thria. Pearl rather liked Lord Orun and his wife, who had the occasion to host her during the then Prince Zephiel's rebellion some seven years ago.

"I see," Kayleth said. "And you're all guards of the citadel, correct?"

"Who are you?" Wagner frowned.

"I am Kayleth, chief tactician of the Lycian Alliance army."

Wagner's eyes glinted in recognition. "Ah, Lord Kayleth. My apologies for not recognizing you. Yes, they are all guards of the citadel."

"On the count of three, shout out simultaneously what kind of illness Lord Orun has. Guards of the citadel should be familiar enough with the rumor mill, no?"

Wagner's face drained in color. "He has only fallen ill two days ago, I'm afraid. There is no way mere guards would-"

"Enough citadel guards should sleep with enough of the maids that they should have a general idea about the form of their Lord's suffering. Two of them are Knights, so they would've been fed the same lie. Now three… two… one."

The nine guards came up with six diseases. Wagner gulped noticeably, his toes were pointing at the direction of the citadel, and he started rubbing his neck.

All that told Kayleth was that he was nervous and wanted to go back to the castle. He needed to prod more.

"I see. So your Lord suffers from the pox, leprosy, dementia, and whatnot all at once does he?" Kayleth sneered.

"Now wait a minute here, that doesn't prove that Lord Orun is not really ill!" Wagner said.

"Lord Orun is dead, isn't he?"

"He is not!" Wagner said, but his head moved sideways and both arms came to rest at his crotch. He was very nervous. Kayleth could almost taste the fear.

"I didn't know if that was true but your reaction is enough, thank you. You killed him."

"I did not!" At this accusation, Kayleth noted that the guards were genuinely surprised. Wagner, on the other hand, was lying through his teeth.

Kayleth could tell in most people whether they were lying or not. No one could know what they were lying about, but the right questions that generated 'yes or no' answers gave him that insight. Lord Orun was dead, he was certain of that much. Whether Wagner killed him was still up for debate. He had to poke him some more to gauge his reactions.

"Strangulation? A dagger in his back? Poison? Ah, it's poison isn't it?" Kayleth said, noting the eyes and the nose. "Last question. Are you in league with Bern? Ah. Guilty of treason as well."

One of the Thrian Knights drew his sword and put it next to Orun's neck. "Wagner, is that true? You've poisoned the Marquess and turned traitor to Lycia?"

"Wait. No! This is a mistake! There is no proof of my guilt!"

Kayleth snorted. "I'm a Count, and you a commoner in wartime. I don't need proof of your guilt. I just need reasonable suspicion of your guilt and reasonable doubt of your innocence. I have practiced deceit all my life. It's a hundred years too early for an amateur liar like you to fool me."

"Guards, kill them!" Wagner screamed.

"Ah, trying to kill peers of the realm now are we?" Kayleth chuckled, and turned to the soldiers. "Soldiers of Thria, I lay claim to your obedience as is my right as the highest ranking representative of the combined Lycian Alliance army. Seize this man. We shall crucify him once we verify that Lord Orun is dead."

The soldiers dragged Wagner down from his horse, and tied him up. They might have been complicit in the murder of their Marquess, of that Kayleth didn't know and couldn't be bothered to find out. The important thing was that they could be conscripted to join the Lycian army marching on Ostia.

"Godfather, this-"

"Is called due caution. Do you remember a certain Marquess Laus? He lived because your father was too stupid to see that he would turn traitor again. I will not let that happen. Besides, if he really is innocent Lord Orun would be alive and we would still not be in the wrong for taking due caution."

* * *

The rumor mill of Thria was in a feeding frenzy as Wagner was marched to the citadel.

A full coterie of Thrian Knights prodded him forward with their lances when the pace slackened. They were accompanied by Kayleth, Roy, Marcus, and Lyn.

The guards looked as nervous as they should be.

"Ho there! What do you think you're doing to Lord Wagner?" one of the guards challenged.

"We're here to see Marquess Orun," Roy answered.

The guard repeated the well-rehearsed cover story. "He's sick. No one but the physician is to-"

"We bear the authority of Lord Hector," one of the Thrian Knights snapped. "And Marchioness Caelin, damn your eyes! Make way!"

The guards looked as though they'd interfere, but thought better of it. The gate was not closed and fifty guards simply could not stand up to two dozen heavily armed Knights. The fight would last all of three minutes, and would be a laughably one-sided one.

While Thria was not a particularly strategic stronghold, it was a population center in its own right. Kayleth noted his surroundings, looking for weaknesses he could exploit in sieges.

The strength of the citadel always said something about the culture that created it. Thria's was as weak as its Knights, unused to war and unprepared for it beyond belief. It was usually Ostia or Araphen that served as the staging grounds for Lycia's external conflicts. In some cultures, peace did not necessarily lead to decadence and stagnation. Thria was not such a culture. Thria was too insulated, and had not been threatened enough that the fighting reached the capital for a long time.

The citadel had fallen into a state of disrepair, and he saw few steel weapons among the guards. There were cultures as pathetically weak as Thria's was before the Scouring. None survived it. Kayleth could only take solace in the fact that the majority of Ostian forces should be alive and well. As for the Thrians, he doubted the Bernese army would even bother to slit their throats and piss down their necks even if they invited them to.

Still, beggars can't be choosers. Between a loaf of stale and moldy bread and no bread at all, a beggar would always choose the loaf of stale and moldy bread. Between a flea-infested blanket and no blanket at all, a beggar would always choose the flea-infested blanket. There was no real choice involved. The Thrian Knights, at least, would serve as good meat-shields for his better Knights.

Kayleth's entourage reached the throne room, which was predictably empty. The way Wagner had grown pale when he suggested that the head butler take the group to the Marquess's private chambers, Kayleth already knew that Wagner was going to die.

"But Lord Wagner-"

Kayleth cut off the butler, not wanting to waste time. "Is in no position to give you any orders at the moment, and he is not a noble, either."

As with all citadels, the throne room was quite close to the lord of the citadel's private chambers. Wagner grew ever more anxious by the footstep.

The entourage now numbered in three digits, accompanied by the Thrian Knights, guards, and servants of all kind.

"Lyn, Marcus, remain outside," Kayleth ordered. He wanted his best soldiers to cut down other traitors if they decided it was time to strike.

The head butler opened the door, and Kayleth was inordinately relieved by what he found.

He already expected Lord Orun to be dead, and that was quite obvious from the impossibly pale face of the corpse on the bed. He had a faint hope that Lord Orun was alive, for he was, if nothing else, a competent logistics officer and an excellent trader. By the lack of decomposition, Kayleth assumed that he had in fact been quite ill for weeks and had only been killed a couple of days ago. The Thrian Knights sunk to their knees in despair at finding their liege dead. The female servants wailed at the news.

Chained to the far side of the room, opposite to the Marquess's bed, were two figures that gave Kayleth's confidence in the war-effort a significant boost, rivaled only by the successful siege of Laus.

Kayleth snatched Wagner's key-chain, certain that at least one of these would work on the chains on the captives. "Citizens of Thria, your Marquess is dead. Roy is the highest ranking officer of the Lycian army. You obey him now, and he obeys me. Send for the heir or heiress to the throne at once. Call for a priest and prepare for a funeral. Oh, and lastly, crucify this treasonous filth!"

The rest of the Thrian guards surrendered to Roy's authority as soon as it was verified that Lord Orun was dead. Preparations were made for his funeral and Wagner's crucifixion.

Meanwhile, Kayleth tried the keys on Wagner's key-chain. One of them was bound to work in the long run, and if not, any half-decent smith could undo the work given time.

"So," Kayleth began conversationally, "I assume the battle for Bulgar was as disastrous as I think?"

"If you mean total and abject defeat with a side of utter humiliation, you are correct to think that, boss."

During the last war, the one that occurred seven years ago, Kayleth had been fortunate to hire the heir of a Sacaen tribe and his wife, heiress to a pirate fleet of some significance. Malik was the only product of that union, with the dark blue hair typical of such a mix and the green eyes of his mother. Like his mother, he worked at Seventh Heaven. Pearl would be pleased to meet one of her most loyal friends. Trust was such a depleted currency in these times.

That he was here, with the other prisoner, meant they were likely dead. If he knew of their fate, he would have told him. As a fellow rational, Malik would know to give him as much pertinent data as possible. His description of Bulgar told Kayleth all he needed to know. Sacae was out of the fight for the moment. No help would come from that quarter.

"Pearl has operational command. Report to her at once. Check for injuries and diseases. Get a sword. Do not let Pearl out of your sight," Kayleth finally found the right God-forsaken key.

"Yes, sir," Kayleth was glad at least some people did what they were told. Discipline was also a much depleted currency, he found.

"And as for you," Kayleth found to his great annoyance that the same key didn't work for the other prisoner's cuffs. Wagner's crucifixion would have to wait. He was due for a meeting with the resident head-torturer.

"I think it was that one," the prisoner offered.

Kayleth used the key the prisoner had indicated. To his mild surprise and considerable delight, it worked.

"Thank you, Lord Kayleth."

"No problem. My condolences for your loss. Rath was a... dutiful heir."

"That, he was," Sue started stretching her arms.

"Vengeance or protection?"

Sue raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, it's a 'Sacaen' thing."

"Give me a bow and I will prove to you that we are not yet dead."

"Hmph... as you wish. Report to Pearl. I have places to be."

Kayleth walked out of the room at a brisk pace, intending to get to the courtyard at once. With any luck, the crucifixion would not yet be ready and Wagner would be given the attention he richly deserved.

* * *

Pearl woke up, and found herself in an unfamiliar bedroom.

Lying on her side, she saw the window first. It was right next to her bed. Staring out the window, she saw the outlines of the castle she had conquered.

She turned around to see the rest of the room. It was a well-furnished one, with the glowing embers of a dying fire in the fireplace. It was a woman's room, judging by the size of the vanity mirror atop the desk. Four of the five candles placed on the candlestick holder were lit, the one in the middle having died out some time ago. Pearl hated being alone in the dark.

Pearl also realized that she recognized the room. It was the one she had stayed in seven years ago. It was the room of the late Marchioness-consort Thria.

"The head butler told me you stayed in this room before," Kayleth gestured at the rest of the room. "The same as it was when its previous occupant died. I expect this will be the last time this room remains the same. Marquess Orun's son is missing, but should have escaped the debacle at Araphen. I rigged the lottery to make sure the heirs or lords of all the important territories survived."

Pearl looked downwards and saw the silhouette of her father sitting on the chair that would normally be at the desk.

"Lady Shara was kind to me," Pearl murmured sleepily.

"Today, we have repaid that debt."

"So many dead..." Pearl sniffled.

"... I'm sorry. You should never have to suffer such losses."

"It's not your fault," Pearl began.

"The blame certainly goes to someone. I'll take half. Zephiel's father can take the rest."

"No. In the end, it's all Zephiel's fault."

Pearl finally sat upright.

"You're very kind to say that."

"Not at all. It's a simple truth. So stop blaming yourself, papa, or I will be sad."

"Very well," Kayleth conceded at once.

"... Shouldn't you be with mama?"

"She's on watch. Her shift ends in two hours or so. Everyone but you and the Princess have sentry duties."

"Even Maddie?"

"Your sister is a grown woman now. Adults have no rights without responsibilities."

"I'd fall asleep," Pearl chuckled.

"To fall asleep while on sentry duty is no laughing matter. The enemy could kill you and everyone else. Thus, falling asleep while on duty can be construed as attempted mass-murder. The punishment is death."

"Even if it's someone like... Marcus?"

Kayleth frowned at the thought. "Marcus wouldn't make such a mistake, which is why he's so valuable. Listen to his advice. It is difficult for a Paladin to grow so old without wisdom."

"He'll survive this war, too," Pearl assured him. "And we'll make Zephiel pay."

"... Do you want revenge so much, Pearl?"

"He killed many of my friends, almost killed Aunt Alice," Pearl's eyes flared uncharacteristically. She was rarely moved to anger, knowing how it pained her father. "Tortured you, even though he owes everything to you. I hate him. I will see him killed and I will throw his body into a volcano."

"That may not be as easy as you say, dear."

"You're here. Mama is here. We'll win, for sure."

"Yet I lost at Araphen. The realities of the war are very different. We are hanging on to the cliff by a thread. If Ostia is breached before we arrive, we have lost. Even if it is not, I cannot say whether the castle will hold off a host of dragons."

"So you want to give up?" Pearl was alarmed. Never did she consider that Araphen would plant such defeatist sentiments in her father of all people.

"Pearl... apple of my eye, you of all people know me best," Kayleth beckoned at her to come sit on his lap. Pearl obeyed, and curled herself comfortably against him. "Of course I have a plan for you. To escape, I mean."

"Sail to the new continent?" Pearl snorted. Her father complained endlessly about how trading ships didn't make it. One out of perhaps twenty ships survived the journey, but the trade was so rich that one trip could make a fortune.

"I know, I know, but if we escape to Etruria... Count Pent should have enough resources to build the largest oceangoing vessel in our history. With good sailors, we will likely make it to the other continent. It will take time for Zephiel to conquer the rest of Elibe and go after the new continent."

"Since when did you shirk your duties that badly?" Pearl scolded.

"I pride myself in being a good noble, true... but you will find, dear, that no matter how proud, we can change ourselves for the people we love. Before you were born, I would have fought to the death. With you, though..." Kayleth closed his eyes, and the images of Pearl's death that Idoun had slammed through his mental defenses replayed themselves.

Pearl sensed his pain, and shook him from the nightmare. Kayleth gasped in relief, sucking in air greedily and forcing his heart to start again.

"You should rest," Pearl ordered.

"I will, as soon as our conversation is over. My point is that with you, I wish to live. To miss you is the one thing I cannot bare. With Lyn, Alice, and even Madelyn, I would have sent them over to the new continent while I fight to the death. With you, though... I cannot afford to die, but I cannot bare your resentment, either. It would be better to die-"

"You're rambling, papa," Pearl uneasily checked his pulse, which was growing faster at an alarming rate. "Stop thinking such dreary thoughts."

"Which is why I need to know, as soon as possible, your choice. I need to know if I'm staying or not."

Pearl decided that she had to finish this conversation as soon as possible, but could not afford to have her father be halfhearted about the war-effort, either. Even if she had to be mean, she had to be decisive. This conversation could very well decide the outcome of the war. "Don't you want vengeance, papa? Zephiel almost killed your only sister!"

Kayleth ground his teeth at that, and Pearl, being on his lap, could sense him quaking in rage. "He killed everyone who made my redemption possible. He killed what very few friends I have. He spat on everything I believe in. He may yet undo a thousand years of history. He took advantage of your mother, though I swore never to fail her again. He nearly killed Alice, my last sibling. He has driven my firstborn to war. He has forced my youngest to see battle. I will kill him even if it kills me, and yet... for you, and only you, I could swallow my pride and let him live. If you choose to flee, I will also flee. Even now, my desire to bind you and take you on a ship to the new continent is almost overpowering."

"Then I will give my answer now, papa," Pearl buried her face in Kayleth's chest, for fear that he would sense her lying. She had to lower his guard as much as possible. Pearl took a moment to prepare her sweetest and gentlest voice, the one that never failed to make her father do whatever she told him to and enjoyed a steady success rate even against her mother. She felt Kayleth's pulse slow as he relaxed and calmed himself. He was guarded against everyone else, a hawk looking for prey. Against her, he was a lamb looking up to his shepherdess, or perhaps a fierce guard dog looking up to her for instructions.

"You know me better than anyone else, papa. I would never leave the people behind when I can help them. I would also never let someone who did my friends wrong go unpunished, nor can I tolerate the existence of a dragon who assaulted you. I will resent you forever if you take me away against my choice. I ask of you, therefore," Pearl looked up to ascertain her hypnosis was working. "I want you, no, need you, to protect me. I need you to help me kill Zephiel, and restore peace to Elibe."

Pearl observed the effect of her words, and delivered the finishing blow. "Besides, Zephiel is not the only one I need to punish. What do you suppose my godfather is doing?"

Kayleth was startled at Pearl's mentioning her godfather. He had forgotten about him entirely. Then, as usual, he began to obsess over it. The more he considered it, the more he realized that on the personal level, Pearl's godfather did him far more wrong than Zephiel did. Whatever retribution he would exact from Zephiel, he would to a hundred times worse to Pearl's godfather.

If he was not dead, and was aiding Zephiel, there was no excuse for Pearl's godfather. Kayleth vowed to wipe out all three generations of his family and relatives besides if he got his hands on them. He would erase all records pertaining to him and his family, as though they had never existed. He would force him to watch as all of them died in the most excruciating manners professional torturers could think up. Then, he would let him rot away in captivity, wallowing in despair and grief. All measures would be taken to make sure he was kept alive for as long as possible.

Kayleth wanted to believe that Pearl's godfather would never betray his trust. He wanted to believe that he was already dead at Zephiel's hands or was on his way to Ostia or Pherae, the most likely places he would find Pearl. However, considering his disposition, he was inclined to doubt it. Indeed, Zephiel could not have planned for the war without his help. Now that he thought about it, he had sent Kayleth letters that asked him advice about hypothetical strategies not two years ago. He talked about such things over dinner with him not six months ago. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. As a matter of fact, the invasion was going exactly as Kayleth himself had planned: a simultaneous three-pronged surprise attack with the Hamorians taking Ilia, which had the most experienced troops. It was no wonder there were no Hamorians in the force invading Lycia. The betrayal was monstrous, and the rage boiling in his blood overshadowed even that he had reserved for his father.

His best friend, his first client, his staunchest vassal and right hand, godfather to his eldest, godfather to his dearest, the fiance of his darling little sister, the only one he had left. Kayleth realized he had been ready to give his third most treasured possession to a traitor of the worst order. The thought sickened him. Even to an unemotional human such as he, the betrayal hurt.

Now Murdock earned a new title: his greatest betrayer.

* * *

At first I'd built up Murdock and Kayleth's friendship for fun. Then I realized it had a useful side effect.

The question would, of course, gnaw away at Alice at night. I considered marrying her off earlier, but decided a man of Kayleth's paranoia and possessiveness was unlikely to approve of a lesser match.

Will be busy for the next three weeks, though I have enough written of the next chapter that I'll update at least once.


	9. The Enemy Within

Kayleth was pleased. It was a rare development even at the best of times in recent days.

Lycian forces led by Roy now numbered over three Legions, and were set to reach Ostia on the morrow. Ostian Lords whose castles Kayleth's forces passed added to the strength of the Lycian army. Best of all, the Bernese vanguard was still four days away, their movement slowed by the loss of their dragons, the resistance of the locals, the length of their supply line, and the size of their army.

"What are you so happy about?" said Alice.

"For the first time in this war, something's going right. Not counting your survival of your assassination, of course."

"They still have dragons, brother."

"We have weapons capable of slaying them, sister," Kayleth glanced at the ring of the White Hawk on Alice's finger.

"Our primogenitor... Adam assures me that we can win, provided your estimates are accurate."

"They are. We killed the bulk at Araphen. No matter how many Zephiel assigned to Ilia and Sacae, they have to be fewer. Araphen was, all things considered, a good battle."

"Nino, Matthew, Rebecca, Lowen, Oswin, and Heath died at Araphen," Alice's distress was keenly felt with every syllable. Even Kayleth felt grief for two or three of the losses at Araphen. The loss of Matthew and Nino felt like someone had cut off both of his feet. Only the grief and bitterness he felt at the death of all but one of his siblings were greater.

As Pearl had said a few nights ago, it was now personal. He knew Alice was worried sick about Murdock. Kayleth did not have the courage to tell her that he probably betrayed them all. They were a match originally made byy his own suggestion. It had taken years for Murdock to recognize Alice as a woman and Alice to recognize Murdock as a man.

Kayleth had elaborate plans for Zephiel's death. They seemed like child's play compared to his plans for Murdock's death. His betrayal hurt almost as much as Matthew, Oswin, Serra, Sain, Rebecca, and Nino's deaths combined. His blood boiled at how hurt Pearl was by the betrayal. Madelyn was the one who had told Pearl it was likely Murdock had betrayed them, and even as rarely emotional as Madelyn was, Kayleth could see her eyes flare every time he mentioned Murdock.

Add to that the sheer amount of trust he had in him, and the betrayal was as a dagger a mere inch from his heart. He didn't know what had gone wrong. It all seemed to make so much sense to him; to have him become godfather for all of his children made perfect sense. Kayleth had reasoned that if it was safe to entrust his children with him, he could concede his sister, too. How wrong he was. How spectacularly wrong he was.

"Alice?"

"Yes?"

"You do know I love you?" expression of such sentiments seemed like terrible wastes of time, but Lyn had assured him otherwise for the past eighteen years. Just because he didn't require such assurances didn't mean other people didn't. He found that was especially the case with his particularly emotional youngest.

"I love you too, auntie," Pearl murmured in her daze of pre-lunch nap.

"And I love you both," Alice answered, stroking Pearl's hair.

"You are the only sibling I have left, and I, yours, by my fault."

"I told you, it's not your fault."

"Oh, but it is. It falls on me, therefore, to keep you from harm."

"I'm not eight years old anymore."

"I am painfully well aware of that," Kayleth remembered the times when he could carry her with one arm. He cursed the gods for making children grow too quickly. "Nonetheless, I need you to know. No matter how many people want to hurt you, no matter who betrays you, I will be there to defend you. We are going to win this war."

Lyn had told him many years ago that to love gave you courage and to be loved gave you strength. At the time, he thought that whoever said that was the most ridiculously sentimental fop that had ever existed. Now, though, Kayleth was set to wondering whether he had grown weak or whether there was some nugget of truth in the saying.

* * *

A lone rider approached the Lycian army from the direction of Ostia.

"High time they sent someone to receive us."

"Indeed," Kayleth concurred with Marcus, for it would be customary to receive them days in advance. That Ostia had sent just one rider bode ill.

"It's Ren," said Madelyn, handing Kayleth the spyglass.

Kayleth saw the young man, and saw that he had the same hair and eyes that Ren was supposed to have. That didn't mean it was Ren, though. He had not met Serra's son for four years. For all he knew, the gawky teenager could have become a hulking specimen of a man, as his father was. Emphasis on the past tense was now required. He wondered if Ren knew.

"Is it Ren?" asked Pearl as outriders intercepted the solitary figure, escorting him to the center of the Lycian army's vanguard.

"We'll see soon enough." No one was above suspicion. The dagger of a single assassin could change the course of the war. The words of a single traitor could change the course of the war.

As amusing as it would have been, to Pearl at least, Ren inherited the hair color of his father rather than his mother's. He didn't look as dour as the late General did. This day was an exception, though.

By his sunken face and bloodshot eyes, anyone could tell that he knew of the calamity of Araphen.

"Lord Kayleth, Roy-"

"Now General Roy, supreme commander of all Lycian forces," Kayleth corrected.

"General Roy, and ladies."

"Why, I wonder, did Ostia send a single rider to greet its defenders?"

"Because the news of Lord Hector's death sparked panic and confusion within the cities. People are fleeing across the Etrurian border. There is looting, vandalism, and rioting. There is a coup d'etat."

Kayleth sneered, "Another betrayal. Tell me, is it a common symptom among Lycians to become turncoats? Or is it that Hector has never been firm in his rule?"

"Papa, that's not the issue at the moment," Pearl admonished. "Ren, what happened to Lilina?"

"Martial law has been declared in Ostia by General Leygance, who we think made a deal with the Bernese. Our armies have been scattered after Araphen, and those that were set to march on Araphen have been dispersed per General Leygance's orders."

"What about Lilina, Ren?" Roy pleaded.

"Held hostage, no doubt," said Kayleth.

Kayleth could very well imagine what Leygance would do to cement his power. It was the only course that made logical sense. It was a favored strategy for usurpers since time immemorial. If he were one, he would do it, too.

He glanced at Madelyn, and saw her come to the same conclusion. Kayleth took great pride in his little grey cells but Madelyn was a prodigy even by his standards. Her intellect did not yet match his, but only because she wasn't given the same incentives to use it. Kayleth used it to kill before others killed him. Madelyn used it for others, and was usually content to be the observer. He suspected and discovered Madelyn to be keeping the records of the war, and found it. Kayleth decided to burn it after the war; history was written by the winners for the winners, and he was determined to continue that proud tradition of human history.

"As he says," Ren nodded.

"If this Leygance were dealing with the Bernese, Marchioness Ostia will make a fine gift for King Bern. Their union will legitimize Bernese control over Lycia, and make it difficult for Etruria to intervene. We must kill Leygance before the Bernese get here, and hold out until the Etrurians get here," said Madelyn.

"We have almost four Legions. With a little help, we can make it," said Kayleth. Now that Pearl had decided to stay for the long haul, there was no choice involved in the matter. The only acceptable conclusions were victory, death, or both.

* * *

"Lord Kayleth," the man knelt. "And Lord Roy, though we never met directly. Welcome to Ostia."

"Sebastian, it's good to see you. I hear tell of a rebellion?"

"We've known for several days," Sebastian conceded. "Your Grace, I must apologize. Your servants have failed you. We will atone with our lives, if we must."

"No… I have failed you," Alice turned away her head in shame.

"We are fortunate to serve such a dutiful liege, but I assure you it is not your fault."

"Sebastian!" Pearl rammed into the now middle-aged butler.

Sebastian laughed as he twirled her around. "My Lady Pearl, how you've grown! All hail the new Marchioness Laus, savior of the Lycian League and soon-to-be savior of Ostia! We have your favorite tiramisu and milk tea waiting for you at the inn. We also imported an ocarina made by Lady Iriel of the House of Feathermoon. It should replace your old one quite nicely."

"Yay! Must I play a game first?"

"Indeed. Some of the rebels have occupied the castle. They prepare for siege so that they can hold out until the Wyvern General Narshen's forces arrive. Ah, the Marchioness Caelin returns in her homeland's hour of need!"

"Sebastian," Lyn nodded. "It's been too long. How are the children?"

Roy groaned, "They already prepare for siege? We won't have the time to-"

Kayleth snorted, "Please. You forget the presence of Seventh Heaven, Ostia. Ahnenerbe is the most militant branch."

"What about it?" Marcus frowned.

"My father is not in the habit of employing incompetents," Pearl giggled, and handed the sapphire signet ring of Laus to Sebastian. Sebastian proceeded to remove Pearl's gloves and fit the ring on her right thumb. "They are my House's servants! Where would we be if my House's servants cannot accomplish such basic tasks as opening the gates, poisoning the captains, tying down guards to their beds, sabotaging enemy supply lines, identifying loyalist sympathizers among the troops, and inciting a riot of Ostian citizens?"

"Why, I can never imagine besmirching the name of our House with such gross incompetence," Sebastian smiled, and whistled loudly twice.

The gates of Ostia's castle opened.

"My Lords and Ladies, welcome to Ostia."

"You've done well, Sebastian. These are troubling times and one cannot be sure of anyone's allegiance," Kayleth said. Murdock might have betrayed him, sure, but it was impossible that even Sebastian would betray him.

"My Lord, you exaggerate. I must apologize that our institution did not have the, ah… overt force required for the retrieval of Ostia's beloved princess. She is currently held in one of the rooms near the throne room. I believe she is being used as hostage inside the citadel against some of Ostia's more loyal Knights. We have established contact with the most militant loyalist forces and Ilian mercenaries hired under Lord Hector's name. One of the two main instigators of the coup, Devias, is barring overseeing the pacification of the castle."

"… You do not have Lilina in your possession? That is troubling," Kayleth murmured. "She could be a significant bargaining chip in the wrong hands. We cannot let her fall into Bern's hands. Her death would be similarly inconvenient. Investigate as to her exact location and retrieve her if possible."

"I humbly apologize for my incompetence. And you, my Lord?"

"I will oversee the destruction of the traitors in the castle. Pearl, do you want to check in at our lodgings, or-"

"No. I'm going to punish the traitors. I don't care if they rebel but Lilina is mine."

Only half a dozen guards were trying to close the gate again. It was no use, of course. The levers required to shut the gate needed dozens of strong men at the best of times.

"Soldiers of Ostia! In the name of Lord Hector I command you to stand down!" Roy shouted as his army encircled them.

One of the Knights lifted his helmet and shouted, "In the name of Lord Hector? Liar! You're an agent of Bern! General Leygance told us how your treachery destroyed Araphen, Lord Roy!"

"… Heh?" Pearl said, befuddled by the ridiculousness of the charge.

"If that is true, why would he take Lady Lilina prisoner, hmm?" Kayleth said.

"Lady Lilina wasn't taken prisoner! She's under our protection!"

"… So there is no chance you'd surrender?"

"Never!"

"Wait!" Bors said. "Captain Jellal, it's me, Bors! General Leygance lied to you! He's staging a coup d'état and plans to turn over Lycia to Bern!"

Jellal's eyes widened, "So they've turned you traitor, too! You will pay for your treason, Bors! Have a duel with me if you still have knightly pride!"

"I don't have time for this," Kayleth said. "Kill them."

"For Ostia and the Alliance!" the armored Knights charged.

The liberation force was armed with anti-armor weaponry, however. With their greatest advantage negated, the Ostian Knights could only fall. Two of them were knocked unconscious with warhammers, but the other four put up a fierce resistance that only ended with their deaths.

"The Lower Town is mostly secure. It would be best to rendezvous with the Ilian mercenaries fighting in the East End. They're closer than the Ostian loyalists are," Sebastian reported. Sure enough, the Lower Town was crawling with thieves, mercenaries hired to protect merchant caravans, whores, and employees of Ahnenerbe. In other words, Kayleth owned Ostia's Lower Town. He chuckled at the irony.

"Have our irregulars stalk the traitors in the back alleys. My troops will send them running soon enough. Take as many of them alive as you can, but there is no need to risk lives to do so. If they resist to the end, kill them. Interrogate them and if you find they actually turned traitor to Ostia, and not just to Lilina, execute them."

"Yes, my Lord. Zachary will guide you to our contact with the Ilians," Sebastian said, pointing to one of the inn's employees. The young boy, about thirteen Kayleth thought, bowed. "Alright, you have your marching orders!" Sebastian shouted at the motley throngs of society's gutter-scum.

"This way!" Zachary shouted, leading the army through the main avenue leading to the citadel.

"Leg it!" Kayleth shouted. "Alice, Pearl, Lyn, Roy, Thany, Dieck, go ahead of us and support the Ilians when you find them! If they claim that their contract is void due to Hector's death, tell them that his daughter is alive and on our side! If they resist, kill them all! The rest of Pearl's group, follow them."

"Right away. Roy, come here!" Alice commanded.

"Did I ever mention that I get airsick?" Roy said, hopping on the back of Fenrir regardless.

"Did I ever mention that I couldn't care less?" Alice snorted, kicking Fenrir's sides. The flight group took to the air and closed distance with the city's East End.

"Found them!" Thany shouted, flying as close as possible to Roy. She pointed at a throng of cavalry pushing mercenaries, likely hired by General Leygance, back towards the citadel. "Eh? That's Zealot!"

Alice heard the gist of what she said and descended towards the Ilians.

Three of the Ilians threw javelins at Alice.

"Hang on," Alice said through gritted teeth as she increased the drop speed and flicked one of the javelins aside.

Instead of attacking the Ilians, Alice decided to prove her allegiance by dropping in the middle of the mercenaries that the Ilians were fighting. Roy, Lyn, and Dieck were dropped off while Pearl retreated to a reasonably safe distance and Thany blindsided a couple of archers intent on shooting down Alice.

Fifteen mercenaries charged at the groundside group. Roy gulped as he realized that he was vastly outnumbered and there was no space to trade for time.

"You two take three," Lyn said.

"Wait a minute, I can't let my employer's-" Dieck began, but Lyn was already charging.

Lyn jumped to evade a horizontal slash and replied with the Mani Katti slicing the assailant's head in half. The momentum allowed her to roll and slice off the legs of two mercenaries. She concentrated, knowing that five mercenaries were coming for her, and moved.

A lifetime of training granted her an almost preternatural speed when it came to swordplay. She danced to one side to evade the vertical blow of a mercenary, and her evasion directed that mercenary's head into the path of a diagonal blow coming from another mercenary. She kicked the surviving mercenary towards two of his comrades and slashed the stomach of another wide.

Another mercenary thrust a sword at her, only to find the Mani Katti snaking around his sword to end up in his heart. Lyn slipped past the wild defensive slash of an assailant, and thrust her sword backwards to dispatch him. She brought the sword upright to parry a horizontal slash, and returned the favor to her opponent's neck.

Lyn flinched as she realized the other seven ignored her and closed in on the two easier targets. She sprinted forward, withdrawing her short bow, and sent arrows through two of the mercenaries.

Fortunately, Roy and Dieck were both able to fend off two each before Lyn arrived to cut down another mercenary.

"My Lady, that was four!" Dieck complained.

"That was amazing, godmother."

"My apologies. It seems I'm getting old. Anyhow, we need to make contact with the leader of the Ilians. Dieck, the left side of your abdomen is bleeding. Roy, replace your greaves as soon as possible. Come."

There was almost a score of Ilian mercenary Knights left, Roy found. Alice, Pearl, and Thany landed, while the rest of the troops led by Kayleth flooded in from the main avenue.

The Ostian rebels were fighting ragtag and disorganized loyalists. The cream of the Ostian military lying dead at Araphen, they were no match for the legions of men under Kayleth's command.

"General Zealot!" Zachary shouted.

"Ah, this is Lord Roy, then?" the middle-aged Paladin at the front of the group replied. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Zealot. My detachment and I were hired by Lord Hector. It is troubling to hear that he is dead."

"As you probably know, he has a daughter, Lilina," Roy said.

"Of course. Our allegiance, then, for the next seventy one and a quarter days at least, is to Lady Lilina," Zealot nodded. "I would appreciate your help in rescuing our employer."

"Thank you for your loyalty."

Zealot chuckled, "Our loyalty has been paid for. There is no need for your thanks."

"Right, then," Kayleth said. "I am Kayleth, tactician of the Lycian Alliance army. You will heed my orders in battle. We are rendezvousing with the militant Ostian loyalists. Do you know where they are?"

"Oh? The Red Baron has survived? The last I saw them they were fighting a little to the north of our position."

"Hmph. Alright. Pick two of your best men and stay with Roy. Pearl will give you further instructions on saving the loyalists. Have the rest of your men join the main battle group in securing access to the citadel proper."

"Who's Pearl?"

"My daughter. Don't judge her by her age. She is competent in her own way," Kayleth pointed her out as she approached. "Pearl, lead your forces to the north and rescue the Ostian loyalists. My forces will attempt to breach the gates of the Citadel and establish a beachhead. Alice, to me."

Kayleth and all but the odd dozen or so of Pearl's soldiers left, spreading out towards the northwest in an attempt to cut off rebel stragglers from making it back tot he citadel and to secure the main gates of the citadel.

"Well then," Pearl chirped. "Hello, General Zealot. If you have any advice, please don't hesitate to tell me. What are your companions' names?"

"This is Trec, and this is Noah," Zealot nodded at his subordinates. "Good men. We will not disappoint you."

"Don't worry. Ilians have never disappointed me. Everyone, move out! Cavalry in front. You know how the order goes! Zealot, Trec, and Noah, please take up positions at General Marcus's side. He is the sergeant of my cavalry squad."

After sizing each other up, Marcus and Zealot nodded at each other. While she couldn't tell what Marcus was thinking-he was simply too old and his thoughts baffled her, preventing her from reading him too well-Zealot probably thought what any Ilian would think under the circumstances. Knights weren't renowned for their long life expectancy.

Marcus's reputation couldn't have hurt, either.

Thany landed next to Pearl. "Pearl, there are about twenty Ostian rebels surrounding six loyalists! We need to hurry!"

"How do you know it's not the other way around?" While Pearl was not skeptical enough to doubt her, she recognized the need to calm her down and make her perform better as a soldier. For all his skill in manipulation, her father all too often forced his soldiers to perform better in a roughshod manner. Pearl accomplished much the same without the resentment that her father's method entailed. "By the way, do you know General Zealot?"

Thany's eyes shot up in surprise. "He's my brother-in-law!" she declared with great pride, and then subdued herself a little to whisper "but sister tells me showing preference for your family is considered unprofessional for Pegasus Knights."

"Your secret is safe with me," Pearl whispered back. "Go up and prepare to take advantage of any openings the enemies show. Watch out for archers."

As Thany took off into the air again, Pearl shouted, "Faster! We must save as many loyalists as we can! Each horseman will carry a soldier on the back of their mounts! Sir Bors, settle yourself on Al's wyvern! Mama, you're with me!"

The little group made full speed down the streets of Ostia. Pearl remembered these streets well, the streets being near the citadel where she was housed and her having lived in Ostia for years cumulatively.

A banner of the Lycian army crashed into the opening on the intersection ahead. Thany had signaled to the rest of the group that the battle was to be at the intersection.

"All infantry, dismount!" Pearl screamed, blowing her whistle to catch their attention. "Cavalry, charge as soon as your comrades have dismounted! You know what to do, Marcus!"

Marcus raised a lance in response, and as one, the cavalrymen of the budding elite of the Lycian army formed up behind him. They charged.

"... Do you even know what the situation at the intersection is?"

"Pfft. You're always so hung up on details, Madelyn. It doesn't matter. One way or another, all open battles start with the clash of a cavalry charge," Pearl answered, her wyvern allowing her to easily keep pace with the infantry. Only Al and Lyn were faster, and the former was on a wyvern himself.

Pearl and her foot-bound cohorts emerged from the alley, shouting war-cries to alert the vanguard that reinforcements have arrived and to put fear in the hearts of their enemies.

Five Ostian loyalists were holding off ten rebels. Pearl's cavalry, to her surprise, was fighting an entirely different group to the east of the loyalists.

"At least they're winning," Pearl shrugged. "Charge! For the memory of Hector!"

That was a call most people in the group could agree with, and they lay into the Ostian rebels with increased vigor.

It was hardly a contest. Her mother alone would have killed them all and put their heads on pikes, given a little time. Pearl held her mother back, though.

Almost all of the dragonslayers of her parents' generations were dead. She needed to raise a new generation of dragonslayers, and she didn't have much of a choice in going with what she had.

"Support each other!" Pearl cheered on her troops, comfortably out of danger with her mother in front of her. "But don't crowd each other!"

Unlike her father's army, her army had to train to handle dragons as well as humans. They couldn't be so spread out that they couldn't support each other fighting humans, but not so clustered together, like her father's army was, and risk being burned alive by dragons.

The voices emanating from her ring were tiresome, but she would have been a fool to disregard their advice.

* * *

"Papa, do you think they'd harm Lilina?" Pearl had been pacing her tent for hours, forgoing two naps and dessert.

"Do you want the truth or the lie?"

"Papa," Pearl groaned. "Normal fathers would lie."

"Normal fathers don't owe their daughters their lives. I will always give you a choice," Kayleth needed to find some captains for his army, assuming he could finish before Bernese forces arrived. Marcus was a fair hand at tactics, but he was too conservative and having only one sounding board was not healthy. Oswin was, too, but he thought like a heavy spearman; 'hold the line' wasn't useful advice, because that was a basic prerequisite. Pent was an excellent tactician, but he thought he was commanding the Mage Corps Guard units. Vaida was good at dogfighting tactics, but lost sight of the overall picture.

Kayleth needed many sounding boards. Marcus was still here but sieges weren't exactly heavy cavalry country. Bors was too inexperienced. Pearl commanded by intuition and profound understanding of each individual within her group, and thus useless as a strategist for a large army.

And the Lycians who had any real grasp of strategy all lay dead at Araphen.

"What are you sighing about?"

"How hopeless our cause is," Kayleth spat. "Even supposing that we keep Lycia, I cannot fathom how to hold the dragons at bay."

"Papa, do you know where magic comes from?"

"What a silly question. Magic comes from the precise application of willpower, the practice of which is passed down by generation via books and oral tradition."

"Nope," Pearl clucked her tongue. "As I expected. You have such a stunted imagination."

"Oh? Humor me, then."

"Magic comes from faith."

"That might be true for faith-based magic, but-"

"No, for all magic. The anima practitioner who does not believe that the spirits of the elements will heed his call will never be able to summon fire. The elder magic practitioner who does not believe what he sacrifices will grant him power will gain no power. The cleric who does not believe in some form of a benevolent deity will never see the light," Pearl glanced at Kayleth, pity written across her face. "This is true of all human endeavors. Rarely has one succeeded where one does not believe. That is why faith is counted among the three most precious human feelings: love, faith, and hope."

"Necessity, delusion, and illusion," Kayleth mumbled to himself. "Tools to control the masses."

While Kayleth tolerated most of Pearl's eccentricities, her religiousness was most puzzling; after all, no one else in her family believed in a deity.

"If you have no faith in yourself, have faith in me," Pearl suggested.

"You have a plan to open the Ostian citadel without using brute force?"

"Of course I do," Pearl grinned. "I'm not so weak that I would do nothing but pace the ground and worry. I was just deciding on a viable plan of action."

"This is no simple matter, Pearl. Siege on Citadel Ostia is nothing like the battles you've handled before."

"Why not? As long as we get in, I doubt Leygance has more than a hundred soldiers. All of his mercenaries were caught outside today, and the only Ostian divisions unaccounted for are his."

"When did you figure that out?" Kayleth raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I didn't find out such details, Madelyn did."

"So Madelyn doesn't trust me yet in overall command."

"Would you trust yourself with overall command?"

"I'm the only one with any experience in this kind of command in the recent years, not counting Murdock," Kayleth's eyes glinted with memories. "Murdock, Murdock, Murdock."

"Maybe they were threatening his family?"

"Not good enough. Not nearly good enough. I will kill him for what he did to you."

"I don't want to kill godfather."

"You won't. I will."

"We'll have to see. Meanwhile, I have the infiltration of the citadel well in hand. I think you should go meet our soldiers."

"I know all of their names."

"I mean you should get to know them better. You've been distracted lately. In the first war, you knew all of your soldiers intimately."

"I didn't win because I knew them well," Kayleth retorted, realizing but not resigning to the fact that he was going to lose this argument. While Pearl was normally a cheerful girl, she had practiced her sad expression to a lethal degree. The same primal impulse to, for instance, feed a baby when it cries set off alarms in Kayleth's brains when Pearl pouted.

"But it helped, didn't it? Besides, don't you trust me?"

In the end it all came down to Kayleth trusting Pearl to do her best for others. That was a motivation he understood, having observed an almost unbearable amount of it in Lyn for nearly two decades. Lyn was his savior and all that, yes, but sometimes she made him feel like garbage. Her natural impulse to do what is right contrasted with his own thought processes so much that he often thought he might as well be Nergal compared to her. If he didn't need her and owe her as deeply as he did, Kayleth thought he might have sued for divorce. Worse, Lyn knew that he knew that and that he knew that she knew that he knew that, but never held his weaknesses over him.

Sometimes, that impulse led idealists astray, but Pearl was raised to know the difference between morality and idiocy. If the education failed, Kayleth and Madelyn were there to keep Pearl from following her misguided impulses.

It was too bad Ninian died so young, young being a relative term in this case as the subject was centuries old but young for a functionally immortal being nonetheless. Making sure Pherae did not fall apart with no real leader at the helm was almost as frustrating as Lyn was. Barring death in battle or death by virulent poisoning, there were no records of dragons dying from something as lowly as disease or time, so whatever happened to Elibe after the Scouring must have made it less habitable for dragons.

In the dragons' eyes, humans must have been as lowly as gadflies. Dragons existed on another dimension, one freed from the shackles of time. If ever there was a time that dragons and humans coexisted peacefully, it had to be in the presence of a common threat. Nothing else explained why the dragons didn't eat or enslave all humans. It must have been galling to be defeated by gadflies.

"You weren't paying attention to me, were you?! J'accuse!"

An overwhelming sense of guilt washed over him. Pearl wasn't as unbearable as Lyn was sometimes, but she was uncanny at gauging people's body language.

"Fine, fine, but I'm going to stop when I get tired."

"Never understood how you can get tired meeting people," Pearl muttered, but patted Kayleth encouragingly on the back. "I think you should try Lugh first."

"Why ever would I want to talk with a damned brat?"

"Hey, I'm a brat, too!"

"That's different. You're my muse, my inspiration, the keeper of my beating heart, the centerpiece of my treasures-"

"Flattery won't get you out of this one!" Pearl grinned. While she was often sidetracked by flattery, Lugh was one her father definitely had to meet.

"Fine," Kayleth threw up his arms. "Will you at least tell me why?"

"I think he's Nino's son."

"... What?" Even during a war to determine a continent's fate, that was jarring news. While there were few things Kayleth had personal stake in, finding Nino's progeny was one of them. His debts were always honored, as had been for Karla and Lyn on one scale and his parents on the other. "Certainly he has green hair, but... that hardly means he's Nino's son."

"Oh, papa," Pearl admonished, and Kayleth was reminded of why Pearl was a force of nature. Kayleth's favorite subject, by default, was war. By the same token, humankind was Pearl's favorite topic. "I think you'll find that, with this," Pearl held out a locket, which was revealed to hold a magical portrait of Nino, Jaffar, Lyn, Kayleth, Heath, and Alice. Judging by Alice's height, it was imprinted some fifteen years ago. "Isn't it curious Lugh not only has the same hair color as his mother's, but also the same facial structure and the same affinity in anima magic?"

"Where did you meet him?"

"Small orphanage outside Araphen."

Kayleth's head ached as the hallucinated images of his dead parents mocked him for his failure. His nightmares and hallucinations had been getting more vivid of late, though not as strongly as had been the case right after the accursed dragon bent his mind over a table and had her way with it.

"Wait. They're supposed to be twins. Do you know if Lugh has a twin brother?"

"Yep. He told me his name was Ray."

"Mother of God," Kayleth cursed Nino's luck. Of all the places to die in Elibe, she had to die a village away from where her children were. Not even ten minutes by foot.

Although, it was a considerably better fate than that suffered by Isadora, Harken, and Sain. In peace, children buried their parents. In war, it went the other way. That was why they had volunteered for the counter-charge during the rout. All of it his fault. His fault for not expecting the unexpected.

"'Rout' doesn't adequately describe the calamity that was Araphen," the hallucinated image of his father said.

"Papa," Pearl shook him, realizing what was happening. "You're with me. You're safe."

"Just thinking about Nino, and a little about Jaffar," Kayleth mumbled. He had tried to get Jaffar to team up with Matthew in the last ditch attempt to assassinate Zephiel, but he had the temerity to refuse. Kayleth liked him a lot better during the war against Nergal, when he had the courtesy to not question orders, no matter how outrageous. He knew that Kayleth could no longer hold Nino's life over his obedience.

"I'm sure they died bravely."

"They did, with courage and honor. They must have killed hundreds by themselves. If Lugh is half as proficient in spellcasting as her mother was, I'll be satisfied."

"Adam tells me he will be, given time," Pearl pointed at her ring.

"Since when did you listen to your elders?"

"Why, I always listen to you, papa." The grin on her face was quite unsettling, but rebuking Pearl was a difficult prospect for Kayleth. He was capable of doing so with Madelyn, Alice, and even Lyn, but there was something about Pearl that made many people instinctively seek her approval and glory in it. It was a combination of natural charisma and artifice on Pearl's part that Kayleth didn't quite understand as science. It must have been from Lyn's side, she who gathered followers with so little apparent effort that it galled him when he had first met her. People like Lyn, Pearl, Hector, and Eliwood couldn't possibly imagine how much effort-a combination of fear and reputation-it took him to get people to obey. He practically had to breathe down people's necks to get them to obey.

"Very well," as deliberately contrary as Kayleth tended to be, he saw the sense in getting to know the troops better. Marcus, at least, was a known quantity. Al and Malik were likewise his employees and excellent meat-shield candidates for Pearl. He knew what Alice, Lyn, and Madelyn could do. He had a pretty good inkling what Roy, Wolt, Allen, and Lance were capable of.

The others were mysteries. There was an impulse in all humans to distrust the unknown and to fear it.

"I'd also suggest talking to to Dieck and our newest Ilians."

There was no doubt his mother was analyzing him for Pearl within the mindscape created by the ring. While Viviane was not the most decisive of Duchesses, she was a perceptive one.

He hoped his consciousness within the ring was adequately protecting her from getting taken over by the others. His ancestors tended to be a singularly ambitious bunch of near-sociopaths.

* * *

That took longer than I expected, mainly because of Tomb Raider and HotS


	10. In the Nick of Time

Pearl's group and some Ostian loyalists were cramming themselves into the cellar of a nondescript building close to the arena.

"It's just a plain old cellar," Chad muttered.

Pearl approached the piano in the corner of the room, followed closely by her cohorts.

"Now, everyone close your eyes, and listen to the music."

"Why do we need to close our eyes?" someone Pearl couldn't identify at the back asked.

"Because I'm about to use magic. In magic, it's essential to believe in what you're doing. Blind faith is a necessity."

Eventually, everyone closed their eyes. Pearl played a short melody, lasting no longer than half a minute.

An enormous portrait that had been leaning against the wall disappeared, and in its place was a small passageway.

"Open your eyes, ye believers!" Pearl curtsied to the applause that filled the cellar.

"What now?" Marcus asked.

"Right... our mission objectives are actually quite simple. First, open the gates of the citadel. Second, find and secure Lilina. Third, kill the rebels. We'll be appearing in one of the ruling family's rooms on the fourth floor: Lord Hector's old room, to be precise."

"And just how did you find out about this place?"

The speaker was on the younger side of middle-aged. His purple hair surprisingly did little to clash against his garments, a nondescript set that was commonly worn throughout western Lycia.

Pearl's smile turned into an even wider grin. "Astore. How kind of you to join our expedition."

"Just returned yesterday from Bern, milady."

"No rest for the wicked. You can lead us through the passage. After you," Pearl gestured at the passage.

"If we're determining who leads us through the passage by sheer wickedness, you should lead us," Astore half-joked, though the already brainwashed Ostian loyalists took great offense and told him to eat shit and die.

"Let the man through!" Pearl commanded before the newest members of her cult could rip the Ostian spy to pieces. The cult of her personality had been taken to new heights after the peaceful pacification of Thria, where it was advertised that it was she who had seen through the treacherous adviser's ruse. Combined with the image she cultivated in everyday life and her image as the liberator of Laus, the majority of the Lausian contingent believed her to be some sort of prophetess.

Pearl's role in the liberation of the city of Ostia produced even more cultists. Kayleth's employees at Ahnenerbe spread all sorts of rumors raising her up to be the Saint reincarnated in her aspect as Lady Liberty. In such trying times, it was easier for people to gain faith.

As though her words were enforced by magic, the crowd parted to let the spy squeeze through. By then, a couple of the Ostians, being spies themselves, recognized Astore and spread the word among their comrades.

"Well, you seem to make friends as easily as usual," Astore let out a sigh of relief at reaching the other side of the cellar safely.

"And you seem to be as unkempt as usual. Astore, meet Roy. Roy, meet Astore," Pearl introduced the two to each other. Astore knew, in his head at least, who Roy was. Roy had no idea who Astore was, and Pearl did not bother telling him.

"Hello, Lord Roy. You look just like your father."

"Hello, Astore," Roy glanced sideways at Pearl.

"What Lady Pearl neglected to mention was that I'm an Ostian spy assigned to watch Hamor. I assure you I'm not a suspicious person."

"Spies by definition are suspicious people," said Pearl.

"Why, I never," Astore sniffed. "Only incompetent spies are suspicious people."

* * *

Pearl emerged from the room right behind Astore and a couple of other professional thieves and Assassins.

Someone lay dead on the bed, the bed she had spent many nights in seven years ago.

"Rebel. Died without a sound," Astore assured her.

The heavily armored bulk of the Ostian loyalists followed her. If the enemy were to discover their presence, they could be counted on to hold the line while the rest retreated.

"_That's what they are oath-bound to do. That's their purpose, and this is the battlefield their specialties shine most,"_ Mary, the sixteenth Duchess of Hamor, whispered from the ring. Missions that required sacrifice took a heavy toll on people like Pearl.

Other infantrymen quickly filed into the room, and soon left little space for more arrivals.

"Go!" Pearl hissed.

Astore opened the door, and let it open gently enough that one might mistake it for the idiosyncrasy of an old door. He stuck a tiny mirror out, checking both sides of the corridor.

"Clear."

"Dorothy, Wolt, all archers. Then the armored Knights. Chop chop. On the double."

It took a few minutes to get the order of battle in line, during which Astore and the other scouts ranged ahead to secure the stairs that led downstairs.

While they could, theoretically, storm the throne room upstairs, they had no idea what kind of numbers lay in wait for them. The safest course was to lower the drawbridge and open the main gates without anyone raising an alarm, thus letting loyalist Lycian forces through unmolested.

"All armor Knights, stay here and secure this floor. Kill anything that comes down the stairs."

"Your wish is my command," Bors said, and moved out alongside Wolt and a couple of other armor Knights towards another entry point.

The citadel was quiet. Pearl wondered why the halls and the corridors were so empty as they reached the first floor without incident, and asked Madelyn.

"They don't have enough guards to post at the stairs and the non-essential floors," her sister answered. "Given the nature of this takeover, treachery, the enemy leader probably dismissed most of the servants loyal to the House of Ostia, too."

"Contact, contact!" one of the soldiers in the vanguard shouted.

They had finally come across the first enemy soldiers at the gate. They had come across a few servants, but never an active participant in the plague of treachery that was spreading across all of Lycia.

Pearl had many fond memories of Ostia. Playing with Lilina and Roy. Forcing them into awkward (for them) and yet hilarious (for her) situations. Harassing Hector and Oswin. Stealing Serra's snacks. Pestering Matthew until he agreed to take her to fun places with bawdy music and dancing. Molesting the maids. There was even one day she begged in the streets in tattered clothes, Madelyn and Hector having refused to give her more allowance. Her acting earned her so much gold that day that she had to call a guard, explain her situation, and have her carry her spoils. It was rare to see a female Ostian armored Knight. The expression on that girl's face when Oswin confirmed her identity at the citadel still made her giggle.

Having no sense of restraint, she spent all that gold by the next day.

"Charge! Kill them all! Axemen and magi forward! Rest of you, cover them!"

With Laus, she didn't even bat an eye at his treachery. These Ostians, however, made her blood boil. Everyone who betrayed Lilina and Hector were going to die this day.

* * *

The drawbridge lowered, and the main gates of the Ostian citadel opened.

"Secure the lower levels. Establish a beachhead on the fifth floor. Limit civilian casualties where possible. The first person to find and secure Marchioness Lilina will be granted a Barony. Go!" Kayleth told the Knight Commanders of Thria, Pherae, and Laus. He'd have to replace them later, but for now he didn't have time to make new commanders, professional commanders, fit into their roles.

It would have been easier to have the combined Lycian forces stream into the floor with the throne room, but Kayleth decided against it. Any other citadel in Lycia, and he would've ordered just that. This was, on the other hand, Ostia.

Ostia's hard power, in gold and men-at-arms, kept Lycia free of Etruria and Bern for centuries. That other Lycian forces liberate the citadel would send a wrong message to the rest of the world.

"Have you been good, Highwind?" Pearl cooed, petting the wyvern while dumping a pork pie she found on the way in his mouth. She found out over the course of many years that wyverns would eat just about anything that has meat.

A battle horn, then two, then what seemed like a dozen sounded the alarms.

"What kind of control do we have over the citadel?" Kayleth asked.

"Every floor below the fifth, except for the dungeons," Madelyn answered.

"Lord Kayleth, I presume?"

"And who are you?"

"Astore, of the Ostian secret service."

"Ah, you're the one Hector stationed at Hamor."

"They're up in arms. Many of the nobles, even your aunt, believe that you're the leader of the cabal that assassinated the Duchess."

"That's preposterous. The heads of the minor houses know that I rule Hamor in all but name. Nothing important in Bern was decided without me."

"They also fear that the rest of Elibe are gathering their strength to challenge Bernese might. You were also away from Bern for a long time. If they ever find out that the Duchess is alive, however..."

"There'll be a Restoration."

"Hamorian forces are being recalled to Bern for homeland defense. The Restoration won't happen until we invade Bern proper."

"We'll have to do with a Restoration in Ostia for today. Hopefully the rebels aren't dumb enough to kill Lilina."

Kayleth could hear the sound of a battle on the fifth floor, even as he climbed the staircase towards it. The battles seemed also to be concentrated towards the balconies on each floor overlooking the main gate. The Ostian traitors on the battlements were retreating inside, and being cut off by the combined Lycian forces Kayleth brought.

"Al, carry me," Pearl said as they reached the third floor. She was tired from the long walk from the arena to the citadel, not to mention having missed a snack, brunch, late lunch, and two naps besides. "Highwind, stay here and be a good boy. No biting, or scratching."

The boy resigned himself to his fate and took her on his back. Pearl's wyvern was too big to fit through the narrow stairwell they were taking to the beachhead established by Lycian forces.

Lycian soldiers ran past the more leisurely paced thirteenth Legion, as Kayleth began to call Pearl and Roy's group, in order to replace losses. All Kayleth could see was how young most of them were. Granted, he went to war when he was twelve, but that was his job. Kayleth saw squires a couple of years younger than Madelyn was rushing past him, even apologizing on the way, into the maw of death the area around the entrance to the stairwell on the fifth floor was likely to be.

Some rules of war never changed. Old men start it. Young men die in it.

"Come on, you slugs! You can choose between possible death at their hands, or certain death at mine! Go, go, go!" a Centurion urged a group of what seemed to be green recruits at the top of the stairs.

Most nations employed sergeants for squad command, but Bern used Centurions, who had the command authority of sergeants and the power of martial law that earlier political officers possessed. That was one of the few changes Kayleth had made in starting to reform the Lycian army.

"Draw weapons," Pearl commanded to her cohorts, lowering herself from Al's back. "Mount horses. We hit the ground rolling."

"Alice, secure the beachhead," said Kayleth. In the absence of the Iron Lords, few in Ostia were likely to be able to kill Alice in full armor. In the enclosed spaces in which most sieges took place, armor was the factor that counted most. "Bors, follow her."

Alice lowered her visor, and charged, taking with her Bors and the two recently recovered Hamorian retainers with her. Kayleth would have liked a little more back-up for his kin, but Asteion and Cuam were competent operatives who knew the hierarchy of importance in terms of the war effort.

"Adam's telling me to hold back," Pearl whispered to her father, fingering her ring.

"He's not considering the overall war effort, then. It is imperative that we recover Lilina as soon as possible. He's probably more worried about the one of his last descendants dying."

"Alright. Gather around, everyone!" Pearl blew his whistle to get the attention of her own troops while Kayleth oversaw the Lycian forces paying the brunt of the butcher's bill against Ostia's Ironclad Knights. It was probable that they were brainwashed into believing they were fighting for Ostia, but the circumstances did not allow a calm and rational discussion to take place.

"The horses are too fat," Wade complained as the group crowded in, and a lot of the infantry agreed with his assessment.

"They're thoroughbred destrier warhorses, mercenary!" Marcus's nostrils flared in defense of his destrier class warhorse. "And most likely worth more than you are!"

"Ah, actually, Ilian mercenaries use coursers," Zealot corrected, though he didn't contest Marcus's claim that the horses were almost certainly worth more than the men were.

"Uncivilized and needlessly big," Clarine sniffed in mild contempt. "It's well known that rounceys are the best breed. They're just the right size and able to do anything."

"If I hear one more word about horses-"

"I don't know what you're talking about," everyone was shocked to see the normally silent Sue speak up, so much so that Pearl couldn't finish her sentence, her mouth being agape. "But the Sacaen breed is clearly the best of the lot. They can do everything you need them to do, require little food and water, and have endless stamina."

"... Okay, the next person to say anything about horses will experience flight, unaided flight, from the fifth floor," said Pearl. Having grown up in Sacae, she knew how proud Sacaens were of their horses and was of a mind to agree with Sue. "Our primary objective now is to find Lilina and secure her. She has blue hair, is about yay tall, wears earrings, and her breast size is-"

"That's not important," Roy cut off, knowing Pearl's obsession for physical intimacy to be even more fanatical than the mounted Knights' obsession for their horses. "Anyhow, we have to make sure she lives if the Lycian League is to continue its existence."

"Right, right," Pearl said, realizing that she'd be with them all the way and would identify Lilina for them anyway. "All mounted Knights are armed with halberds or warhammers, right? Most of our enemies should be armored Knights. Good, good. Swordsmen to only engage when distracting them or delivering finishing blows."

"Area secure!" Kayleth called his daughter.

"If there are any enemies who seem like they used crests, rings, and the like, call on Marcus or my mother. We stop for nothing. Go team!"

The cavalry thundered out on to the fifth floor first, and met a spear line of Ostian armored Knights.

"Back, back!" Marcus shouted quickly, using his horse to stop the momentum of the other horses.

Bearing enormous warhammers, Ward and Lot crushed the helmets of the armored Knights as though they were eggshells. More importantly, they used their weapons to brush aside enemy lances. Through these holes, Pearl's swordsmen lashed out before returning out of range of the traitors' lances.

Pearl grabbed Clarine's skirt, and pointed at her sister, "Heal her!" She knew Madelyn had been helping Merlinus and some others organize the logistics of the Lycian forces. Given the disaster at Araphen, the process was excruciatingly slow and she only sensed her checking on her sleeping in the dead of night.

"We've secured the armory."

Pearl frantically searched her pockets for the communication stone that was paired with her father's. "We're doing fine, just advance towards the throne room!"

"We're losing momentum," Duchess Mary murmured from the ring.

Pearl raced over to Lyn, tugging at her dress to get her attention. "Time to use your sword."

Lyn was about to reply when one of the rooms nearby opened, and out strode several Ostians, including two armored Knights.

Pearl blew a long note with her whistle, summoning all of her minions back to her. It was supposed to signal that the rear was in danger.

Sue and Malik were quite close and thus first to respond, the former rapidly placing her horse in front of Pearl and the latter dragging Pearl back.

"Sacaens?" a gruff, yet puzzled voice said. "Tell me, who do you work for?"

"Why don't you tell us that first?" said Lyn, ready now to kill the entire group if provoked.

"We're obviously Ostians, fighting to preserve Lady Lilina and the throne."

"So... just to be clear, you're against this General Leygance?" Pearl ventured, daring to peek from behind Sue's horse.

"Pearl!" the Knight next to the one who had spoken thus far gasped, and the voice was oddly female.

"Wendy?"

"That's right!" the Knight took off her helmet so that Pearl could recognize her.

"Oh God," Pearl sighed in relief. "And I thought it was going to be a fatal mistake not to check the rooms one by one."

"Ah, so this is Lord Hector's special guest that you had to babysit?" the other Knight also took off his helmet. "I am Sir Barth, Dame Wendy's direct superior. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Nice to meet you too," Pearl smiled her most adorable smile. "Would any of you happen to know where Lilina's locked up?"

"I'm here," Lilina said, emerging from the room.

Pearl started laughing. Of all the personal stakes she had in this war, one of the most important had just been confirmed safe.

* * *

"Lilina. Excellent. Did they do anything to you? You're unhurt?" Kayleth said, scanning Lilina for a single scratch. He found none permanent, and was relieved to find that he could fulfill his promise to Hector and Florina. "Foolish little girl. Did I not teach you not to give your trust where it is not earned? What would you have done if we had not arrived to rescue you, hmm? Do you have any idea what kind of jeopardy you put the future of humanity in because of your misplaced trust?! Speak up!"

"Kayleth, don't traumatize her further!" Lyn snapped.

"I-I'm sorry godfather," Lilina hunger her head in shame. "I've failed Ostia. I've failed father."

"Erm… Lilina, about your father," Roy began.

"Ah. If you're here, father must be here, too!" Lilina's face brightened some. "Where-"

"You've heard nothing of what happened at Araphen?" Kayleth said.

"No."

"Lilina, dear… your father has fallen in battle," Lyn said, embracing Lilina and stroking her head and back.

"What? But-"

"The Lycian Alliance has suffered a crushing defeat at Araphen. Around six Legions have been massacred. The Bernese had dragons. The countermeasures put in place against them were inadequate. Hector was slain in single combat against King Zephiel. Roy and his troops arrived just in time to rescue me but Hector's wounds were too grave," Kayleth summarized. "The Marquess is dead, long live the Marchioness."

"… No," Lilina gasped, stretching out her hands. "Father… that cannot be!"

Pearl dismounted, and walked up to Lilina. She drew the emerald-encrusted signet ring of Ostia out of a pouch, and took Lilina's right hand. "The Marquess is dead… long live the Marchioness," Pearl said, slipping the ring through Lilina's finger. She proceeded to pull out a pin from her hair to prick Lilina's ring-finger. The blue lion on the ring shined in recognition of its new mistress, sprang to life, and gave a triumphant roar.

"Wait a second," Lilina said very quietly, taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes. "There… I am Lilina, daughter of Marquess Hector of Ostia. I will not panic… I've been trained to know no fear…."

Pearl pushed Roy to Lilina's side, hissing, "Comfort her, you stupid brat!" Roy obeyed, more out of deep-rooted reflex of obeying Pearl than a desire to hug Lilina, or so he thought to himself. Lilina was trembling, and Roy's hands steadied her.

"It's alright, Roy," Lilina forced a smile, patting Roy on the back. "I'm not that weak, you know…?"

Kayleth dismounted and kneeled. "The head of the Lycian Alliance is the ruler of Ostia. Thy orders, Marchioness."

Realizing this, everyone in the vicinity except Roy kneeled.

"Yes… I am Marchioness Ostia," Lilina said, reluctantly pushing Roy away. "My first order is to rise. My second order is to restore peace to the citadel as soon as possible."

"Thy will be done," Kayleth nodded, and mounted his horse. "Soldiers of Lycia, we have our marching orders! All forces, to the throne room! Death to the traitors!"

"Move out! Armored Knights, front and center!" Pearl shouted, directing the Ostians to the front. "Sir Barth, phalanx formation!"

A steel wall of death consisting of rows and rows of Ostian armor Knights marched through the hallways of the citadel. The throne room was not far from Lilina's cell. Most of the defenders surrendered on sight. The few who chose to resist were crushed under the boots of Ironclads. Seeing Lilina on the shoulders of the second row of the Ostian knights, the Ostians who had been fooled by the rebels joined them.

The most fervent of rebels defending the entrance to the throne room were brushed aside. No quarter was given.

"… I didn't notice the last time I was here, but wooden doors?" Kayleth snorted.

"It has a history of-" Barth started.

"It's in my way. Burn it," Kayleth said to Lilina and Lou. He detected a hint of hesitation. "Now," Kayleth said, intoning it in the most authoritative and threatening way he was trained to.

Magical fire and nearby torches were thrown. Axes fell on the wood.

As the gates came down, Kayleth saw a frightened gaggle of sheep ripe for the slaughter in the throne room. There were barely a score of them left.

"I am Kayleth of Winterfell. Surrender, and I will show mercy. Resist, and you will know pain such that you would wish you had committed suicide. Resist, and I will extinguish you and all three generations of your kin. Choose!" Kayleth said. They couldn't all be spared of course. The ones who thought they were doing right by Ostia would live. Those who thought they would be on the winning side would die in indescribable agony.

"Don't listen to him!" the man on the throne said. "We just need to hold out until Bernese reinforcements arrive!"

"The Bernese have killed Marquess Hector and have allied with dragons. As of the moment, they are the primary enemies of mankind. What would you choose? An eternity of bondage or a chance to break the shackles? Besides, the point is moot," Kayleth pointed at Lilina. "Lay down your weapons. Your Marchioness commands it."

"You've taken a girl hostage? Shame on you!" one of the Knights retorted.

"You've been deceived, you imbeciles!" Kayleth shouted back. "Leygance isn't keeping the peace so much as usurping the throne!"

"Get off that throne, Leygance," said Lilina. "That is my father's throne."

"Your father is dead," Leygance sneered. "You can't possibly expect the Ostian nobility to accept a little girl as Marchioness. You can't possibly expect Lycia to survive Bern and the dragons!"

"Leygance, what are you talking about? That's treason!" another Knight near the throne said.

"I'm the future of Ostia! Only I represent Ostia's best interests!" without further ado, Leygance thrust his silver lance through the helm of the Knight who spoke up.

A moment later, chaos ensued. It was nearly impossible to tell who was friend or foe.

"Lugh, Lilina, target Leygance. Alice, Lyn, charge towards him. Kill everyone on the way."

"But we don't know who's traitor or who's loyal!" Lilina pleaded.

"Then you had best kill him before Alice and Lyn kill everybody here, hmm?" Alice had already plunged into the thick of the melee. Lyn hesitated, using her bow instead. As expected, Leygance was better armored than most and the arrows had no visible effect.

Thunder crashed into Leygance, stopping him mid-motion and allowing a loyalist to land a blow on him.

"Out of the way!" Marcus shouted, and although he could hardly believe Marcus would do such a risky thing, Kayleth instinctively jumped out of the way.

As expected, Marcus's warhorse crashed into the mayhem of heavily armored Knights blindly striking at each other. It was likely no one but Leygance knew who was truly traitor or loyalist.

What was unexpected was Marcus jumping off as his horse crashed.

The momentum took him flying into Leygance, and as bulky as he was, the momentum forced the traitor to the ground.

Lycian loyalists shouted in triumph as Marcus drove his silver sword down, point-first, into the traitor's helmet. The noise was such that the Ostians around Leygance were forced to look at what had transpired.

"Clarine, heal Sir Marcus. You there, cleric, go over every inch of Lilina's body and ensure that she's healthy." Kayleth was amazed by Marcus's performance, but he'd be damned before he sanctioned that kind of madness.

"Kayleth, Kayleth!" a familiar voice wheezed. "Out of the way! I need to see the tactician!"

"Merlinus, what are you doing here?" Kayleth snapped. "I told you to secure the vaults."

"Out-outside! At least a Legion of Wyvern Knights!" Merlinus stammered. "They're led by one of their Wyvern Generals!"

"What?! Did they just abandon their footsoldiers? Everyone, to the gates! Ostia must not fall!"

* * *

Narshen and his troops landed in front of the gates of the citadel. The message was clear enough. If the citadel resisted, Narshen intended to slaughter the civilians in the city, and there was very little a land-bound force could do about it.

Roy peered over the battlements above the gate.

"You!" Narshen shouted. "You're Roy? I see you've gotten rid of Leygance! Good for you!"

Kayleth stuck his head out of the battlements and shouted, "Well, well, it seems like the fourth rate managed to crawl his way into the position of a Wyvern General! Tell me, how brown did your nose get in that process? Can your tongue actually taste anything other than the King's hairy ass?"

The defenders on the battlements laughed out loud, hooting and jeering.

"You can't talk like that to me! I'm a Wyvern General! You were the one who was defeated at Araphen!" Narshen screamed.

"Only because Zephiel had the audacity to turn traitor to humanity!" Kayleth shouted back. "Did your King not say anything about the casualty reports? Dozens of dragons slain, half or more of your forces massacred, it's a wonder your head doesn't rest on a pike over the gates of Zephiel's palace! Better go back to your master, dog, and lick his boots if you want to take this citadel! A Legion of Wyvern Knights is not enough to take Ostia!"

"Just wait until my footsoldiers get here, you relic of the past!" Narshen raged.

"Tut tut, Narshen. Do you remember what happened when Zephiel himself tried to take Araphen? Imagine what's going to happen to your forces, not supported by dragons, against the walls of Ostia! Did you forget who I am?" Kayleth smiled a smile Roy imagined Grimalkin would have toying with a mouse. "I'll beat a fourth rate back into his proper place any time any day!"

"Fine, then! I shall crush you as I did Hector! All forces, take to the skies!" Narshen shouted.

"You had nothing to do with crushing Hector, much as you might fantasize otherwise! And I wouldn't do that if I were you! Look behind you!" Kayleth shouted, and the defenders erupted in cheers and hoots as Legions upon Legions of troops bearing Etrurian banners formed up to surround the Wyvern Knights, streaming through every street and alley around the citadel.

"What?! Why is Etruria here?!" Narshen said, bewildered. The gates of Ostia's citadel opened and troops poured out of it to completely surround the Wyvern Knights.

A Paladin and a Valkyrie stepped out from the Etrurian ranks. The Paladin removed his helmet and spoke, "Soldiers of Bern, hear me! I am Percival, Knight General of Etruria. A few days ago, we have received word that Ostia and the Lycian League wish to become protectorates of Etruria! Our King has accepted, and sent us to secure the new additions to the kingdom! You are in violation of sovereign Etrurian territory!"

"What?! They can't possibly-"

"You refuse?" Cecilia said. "I must warn you that all Etrurian Legions manning the southern, southwestern, and southeastern borders are here right now. You face the might of fourteen Etrurian Legions."

Narshen looked like he would boil over and explode any minute. Kayleth waited. To destroy a Legion's worth of Wyvern Knights was no mean feat. To do so with minimal casualties was an ideal result.

Several of Narshen's aides, unfortunately, had the good sense to keep Narshen in check. Narshen snarled back at them, but took their advice. "The Kingdom of Bern has no quarrel with the Kingdom of Etruria. We will leave from your territories at once," Narshen snapped. "I will remember this, Cecilia, Percival."

"Please do, because we won't," Percival dismissed.

"What, you're leaving already after saying all that?!" Pearl shouted, laughing raucously. She was joined by the mocking laughter of the Lycians. "Come on, fight! Prove that your words actually mean something! Didn't you say something about taking the citadel?!"

"He can't, Pearl!" Kayleth beamed. "You see, the hot air of a dog that exists only to lick its master's ass is worth less than nothing!" More jeers and cat calls rose from the Lycians.

Unfortunately, Narshen's aides succeeded in dragging him away, and the Legion of Wyvern Knights took to the air. They headed east, of course.

"Where's the Marchioness Ostia?" Percival demanded.

"Umm… I'm Marchioness Ostia," Lilina said, still confused as to why Etruria would come to Lycia's aid.

"I see. King Mordred sends his regards, my Lady. I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, for your assistance in our time of need," Lilina said.

"I will relay your thanks to the King. You should rather be thanking Cecilia. She was the one who argued hardest for intervention. With the King, too, in fact! Who would've known she had such a loud voice?" Percival laughed.

"Percival, that makes me sound unladylike," Cecilia admonished.

"My apologies," Percival said. "Anyhow, I must return to Etruria. Don't take too long Cecilia."

"Yes… two of the three Etrurian Generals shouldn't be absent from the court too long. Thank you, Percival. Leave the rest to me."

"I'll be back soon enough. If Lycia is to be Etruria's protectorate, I need to learn more about it. I suspect Lord Douglas will visit in the next month or so, too. Until then," Percival waved, and then turned about. His retinue trailed about him hurriedly.

"All forces, to the east!" Cecilia shouted. "Make ready to march on Araphen! Make camp outside the city walls!"

The orders were echoed by the generals of each Legions. The Etrurians started shuffling about towards the eastern gates.

Kayleth was not amused by the lack of discipline in the troops. They were lucky that Narshen was one of the dumbest people Kayleth ever had the displeasure of meeting in his life. If what remained of Narshen's forces and the Etrurians were to fight, he was certain the Etrurians would take huge losses. If dragons came, the Etrurians stood no chance at all. He doubted that the levies would stand their ground to keep the dragons off the magi.

"General Cecilia, good to see you again!" Roy said, approaching Cecilia.

"It's Lady Cecilia!" Pearl shrieked in delight as she launched herself on Cecilia's horse and attached herself to the General's bosom, starting to molest her. Cecilia seemed to be resigned to her fate as one of Pearl's playthings, sighing as she patted Pearl's head.

"Yes, you really surprised me. Why are you here?" Lilina said, walking down to better converse.

"A Pegasus Knight courier arrived with a letter from Roy, though I suspect the words were dictated by Lord Kayleth."

"I'm admitting nothing. But I knew you'd come running over. Ah. Before I forget," Kayleth took out a tome and a golden necklace with a pentacle. Sebastian took them, and handed them over to Cecilia. "The former Mage General wishes you luck and strength, as does your sister."

"… Count Erk and my sister are dead?"

"Fell in battle. It was a good death. I'll tell you more about it later if you're interested."

Roy mumbled, "I'm sorry you went through so much trouble… to even argue with the King-"

"No. This is beneficial to Etruria, too."

"Beneficial?" Lilina said.

"Bern has taken Sacae and Ilia. Lycia was moments away from falling. The recent events have seriously shaken up the old balance of power," Madelyn explained. "Etruria's play, then, is to prevent the fall of Lycia, which has the most resources out of them all, while supporting the resistance movements of Ilia and Sacae. On the other hand, Etruria will not officially declare war so as to tie down most of Bern's Legions at the Bern-Araphen borders. This is the basics of geopolitics."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Cecilia nodded. "Ilia doesn't have much in the way of resources and Sacae has a strong aversion to foreign occupiers. Bern will lose troops and resources in both places while Etruria and Lycia prepare for war."

"And the Lycian League is in no position to object," Kayleth said, his hand tightening on Lilina's shoulder. "The head of the Lycian League welcomes the Etrurian liberation force, as long as the terms of its generosity are... fitting."

"I have the authority to negotiate for the Kingdom of Etruria."

"No quartering, criminals to be subjected to the Lycian judiciary system-"

"You know there's no way I can accept that."

"Fine. We'll allow Bernese armies passage, then."

"You wouldn't dare."

"A drowning man can dare many things, but I'll never allow Etrurian weakness to seep into Lycia."

"Funny how Lycia turns to Etrurian weakness for help, isn't it?"

"If you cut out the politics and look at this logically, you know this to be true, General Cecilia. How many years has it been since Etruria's nobles fought their own battles? Luxury has always weakened civilizations, and Etruria is the civilization that indulges in it most. Lycia may have a smaller population, but its people were busy killing each other when Etrurians have been busy doing God knows what. I'd posit that your Mage Corps haven't seen battle in years. Am I wrong?"

"Our Mage Corps are the elite, the best troops our nation can offer," Cecilia evaded.

"Your Mage Corps have trouble putting down disorganized bandits and pirates in the Western Isles," Kayleth sneered. "The only reason Narshen backed off is because he's a functional retard. The only thing the Etrurian army has going for it is numbers. You can't even get them to march straight. Look at that complete lack of discipline. You seriously expect me to let half-brigands walk unchecked and be tried back in Etruria? Quartering is out of the question, too, and for the same reason."

"What're you willing to offer, then? You can't expect me to take that to my King."

"You won't take it to your corpse King. You'll take it to your Senate, and you'll word it the way they like it. You'll do so because you have no choice."

"Corpse King?" the General's face contorted with anger.

"In that way, he's a good representation of the state of the Etrurian military. It's a wonder even someone as retarded as Narshen is to think otherwise. The only reason Zephiel would stop is to consolidate his control over Sacae and Ilia. If he takes Lycia as well, Etruria will burn."

* * *

Since I did nothing about Nabata, Etruria, Bern as a whole, and the Western Isles.

As usual, I'll take my cues from canon and reality.

Nabata's a desert. The ruins in the maps show signs of some kind of a civilization, explained in my series as the remnant of the pre-Scouring human one with dragon influences.

Can't possibly support much of a population. It'd be hard even with modern technologies. Still, it'd be boring if this fictional Arcadia or Acadia or something was the only sign of civilization in this wasteland. I have a deep distrust of what people claim to be utopias, mainly because none have ever existed, and if it ever existed, it was short lived. Most of all, utopias are so terribly boring. Historians often say that without conflict, their jobs would be boring. People think it's a joke, but it really isn't. Without some kind of a conflict, my major is really boring. Thank God there's plenty of it to be found in history, and every conflict is hilarious in hindsight.

With a moderate to minimal population, Nabata can support a culture.

Hard living means hard breeding. Hawkeye might be an overstatement, but can be taken as representative of his people in general. Considering he's from Arcadia, the people in the rest of Nabata should be even hardier.

Can't support a materialistic society or much in the way of luxury. Breeds fatalistic people, like Hawkeye and Igrene.

Tribal, as they tend to be, and by necessity of tribalism, constant warfare. No centralized government, unless a unifying force came into being. Athos does not strike me as the type. I could make up a religion, I guess, but the scenario sounds overly hackneyed (Moses, Muhammad, Jesus, etc).

Few cities around oases, and most likely to be nomadic herders. Little chance for civilization, given such conditions.

Could go with a narrow strip of fertile land around a river (Egypt) instead of wasteland (most of Saudi Arabia. What this region is going to live on after the oil wells run dry is beyond me. I hope the royal family starves to death, the parasitic bastards that they are), but given the numbers (one Nabatan in FE7 and arguably three in FE6), highly unlikely to be the river scenario.

Arcadia seems to have little to no contact with the rest of Nabata. The loli dragon in FE6 seems to be the only pure dragonblood left. That could have happened in two ways: not enough of a population to avoid excessive inbreeding and death by Nergal. I'll go with the latter being the cause of the former. No. Incest is not wincest. In reality, it is a crime that rivals infanticide. I don't care if they love each other, shoot the fuckers. Dragons are said to be smarter than humans, so I'll go with them dying out rather than engaging in incest.

Now for something completely different, Etruria. I suppose this would be the antithesis to Nabata.

In the development of civilization, there comes a point where civilization is addicted to luxury, and thus decadence. It's nearly the end of that civilization; decadence discourages values that make a civilization flourish. Romans, Aztecs, Egyptians, Mongolians, Ottomans, Chinese, French, etc. Only industrialization and capitalism have managed to stave that off, and whether even they can stave it off indefinitely is in question (Europe: note population decrease, lack of economic dynamism, growing irrelevance in terms of hard power, etc. I think the Spanish Prime Minister once said something about Spain not being Uganda two years ago or so. He's right. Uganda's catching up. Spain's almost bankrupt, and had over 25% unemployment in Q4 2012. Anyhow, there are plenty of well-researched scholarly work out there about European decline and the rest of the world catching up).

By that measure, and several other indicators of what little context Intelligent Systems provides, Etruria is nearly catatonic.

Intelligence Systems tells us that it has the most culture of any nation in Elibe. Luxury is the basis of culture.

Lycia has corruption at the local warlord level (Laus). In contrast, Etruria has corruption at the highest level of a centralized government in an absolute monarchy. Corruption at the feudalistic level (Lycia) is to be expected. Corruption, and even rumors of corruption at the highest level of a centralized government in an absolute monarchy caused the French Revolution.

Etruria's a lot like pre-Revolution France; not even Russia was such a shithole, though I'll admit that's an exaggeration. Russia is just appalling, present tense. Almost half of France's GDP went into paying off interests for the debt by the time the Revolution came around. The French let Louis and Antoinette go far too painlessly. Their nobles deserved to have their limbs torn apart, which is basically what happened. Right after storming the Bastille, some of the laborers at a printing shop in Paris killed their employer and ate his cats. Most pre-Revolutionary French fables, the prototype of wish-fulfillment fantasies, had something to do with peasants getting all the food they want. Although anecdotal evidences are flimsy arguments at best, they say something about what a shithole France was.

Etruria clearly has slavery, as evidenced by Dieck. So did Rome, which had essentially freeriding citizens by the end and depended on slaves for agricultural purposes. Despite what some die-hard Confederates might say, the economic efficiency of slavery is pathetic. Sure, they built the pyramids with slave-labor but the Egyptians did that at the cost of their nation. It's doubtful that a nation relying on slave labor has anything approximating an efficient economy, and especially one that can sustain a decadent upper class in the long term.

How distant the upper class is from the troubles of the lower class: Clarine. An extreme example, perhaps, but it's a representative one. None of the Etrurians in the cast of FE7 showed signs of being in touch with reality, either. The Prince in FE6 seems to be more in touch, but that's probably because he actually lived for a year among the peasants. It's obvious he didn't suffer alongside his subjects, though. Look at his skin tone.

The Etrurian military doesn't sound particularly competent, either. What kind of incompetents let civilians kidnap their King? No wonder, since most of their nobles, who were the war leaders, have little interest in war when the alternative is luxury. Since civilian authority over military forces and all that good democratic stuff have yet to be invented, the result is a poorly led military. Sure, Cecilia and Percival seem to be on the right side of competent, but imagine an army in which everyone from captain upwards is a noble like those Senators who betray the King. Also given the relatively light selection pressures on the commoners, the result is a poor military.

IS doesn't tell us what kind of a percentage of the Etrurian population, or humanity in general, is capable of magic. The magic I care about has to have combat-utility, though. I'd put it at a hundred to one at the most for all of Elibe and maybe thirty to one at the most for all of Etruria. I mean, imagine one out of a hundred people being able to burn a village down with his or her mind in a teenage-angst fueled rage. The world wouldn't survive, and Etruria doesn't strike me as the type of nation that would have a well-regulated system to govern these mutants. They're well-represented on the battlefield, of course, more so than their actual percentage as a population might suggest. It's in the interest of every nation to field as many combat-magic capable troops on the battlefield as possible, whereas there are resource caps as to how many Knights you can field (essentially taking top-class heavy laborers out of the economy, the upkeep for horses, the starting costs for armor and weapons, squires, etc).

The nobility can probably use powerful, that is combat-effective, magic. Feudalistic systems always concentrate power unto those with power. Considering what Niime says in her support conversations, I'd guess eugenics is practiced in the magical circle. If so, the Etrurian nobility probably have more inbreeding than is usual. It would explain some of the decline in the arcane arts since the Scouring. Why else can they not produce new Divine Weapons?

Throughout human history, small countries in between two big ones were always absorbed by the bigger countries. See Poland. For exceptions, see Switzerland. That Lycia was not absorbed is telling. It acts as a buffer between Etruria and Bern, and probably because its countrymen are well-armed and ready for war. Again, see Switzerland. Neutrality only works when you're ready for war. Etruria is traditionally pro-Lycia because of this, I bet.

When Clarine recounts the fairy tale stories presumably meant for young ladies, and it is no coincidence that they sound a lot like Twilight, the gentlemen take them back to the manor. Not castle, not citadel, but manor. This says something about lack of focus on the military and the pre-Revolutionary French manor system. As well as paying those parasites a substantial amount of your harvest, you also had to work these parasites' fields for a third of the year. The French nobles deserved everything they got in the Revolution and worse.

Speaking of parasites, the Church. I have no problem with religion, or even organized religion, but organized and hierarchical religions tend to be parasitic. That's the difference between Catholicism and Protestantism. All Protestant nations are better off than Catholic ones in Europe. The dynamics of relevancy in the EU can be defined that way. The Church provides educational services, help for the needy, spiritual and mental services, all of which are important in well-adjusted civilizations. The problem is that it re-allocates a certain percentage of the communal wealth in totally inefficient ways, and for most of history, the re-allocation was a subjective term. It's only nowadays that the Vatican's accounts are all in the red, and it's not because there are less Catholics than there were.

I mention the Church because of the significant presence it's supposed to have in Etruria. The more I think about it, the more Etruria becomes pre-Revolutionary France with a post-Napoleon military. Good God those parasites were just appalling during the Revolution.

On to Bern.

Bern is described to be 'pragmatic' and militaristic. Just what the hell IS expected us to take away from 'pragmatic' is beyond me.

In Bern's case, I sense authorial intent in its name. Bern, capital of Switzerland, was home to a likewise mountainous and militaristic nation. It took numbers to defeat Swiss pikemen, who were the byword for military discipline.

Probably less centralized than an absolute monarchy. That the Black Fang hadn't been subdued is telling. Corruption at the local warlord level, obviously. All feudalistic states have it.

Likely a producer of various metals, given its mountainous geography. Terraced farming must exist to support a large population, and especially to support the flight of wyverns.

Given the relatively decentralized nature, nobles probably stay in their keeps most of the time. What else is there to do but wage war on your neighbors? Wars enforce natural selection. Not as much as they would in Ilia, of course. Wars enforce competition, and a part of that competition is science, or in Elibe's case research in magic and science. There's nothing like a war to bring out human ingenuity.

The theory is that science, mathematics, and engineering flourished in Europe because of the constant international warfare. The competition in exploration also led to more calories consumed in the West (potatoes). The East, on the other hand, fought self-contained wars for the most part of the 17th-20th centuries. The theory is that war is a catalyst for the evolution of humanity as a species, since Darwinian natural selection on the individual level is slow.

Take the stone axe, for instance. Long before it was used to on wood, it was used on people, and I'd bet my life on that. The world's oldest profession is not prostitution; it's murder. If you seriously believe that people could come up with goods exchanged for sex before they thought of goods looted from dead or dying bodies, I applaud your misguided faith in humanity. In the beginning, humans were scavengers like hyenas. Iron, bronze, copper? All tested on people first, or that's what people made them for, anyways. A happy coincidence that they made better tools with them.

The moral of this story is that if you're at peace, prepare for war. That is how human civilizations survive.

Bern as a nation is ready for war. War takes preparation, and war on the scale Bern wages in FE6 a lot of preparation. Could this preparation take place without giving a hint to neighbors? Doubtful. Against Sacae, maybe, but not against Ilia and Lycia, the former of which should have mercenaries everywhere and the latter of which should have spies everywhere. It has the numbers to take Ilia and the numbers and the armor to take Sacae. It's true mongol horse archers defeated Western armies many times their numbers, but that's because Europe at the time didn't know how to fight. They were like at the level of Dark Age half-monkey Down Syndrome retardation of thinking King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table was a viable way to fight. Appalling, I know. It's true that in hindsight many things seem retarded, but this one's a cut above the rest.

By the way, Europe learnt how to fight after the Mongol invasion. They discovered the concept of weight of numbers: that one Knight in shining armor cannot defeat five peasants in a line with nothing more than pikes, and the pikes don't take much iron at all. In an alternate history where the Khan didn't die so soon, we would all be speaking Mongolian, and that is not as much of an exaggeration as one might think. The only reason Mongolian isn't spoken all over the world now is that all of the Mongolian dynasties (in China, India, the Middle East, Russia) fell to luxury. In short, they forgot how to fight, and the locals noticed.

In the medieval world, might made right. One could say the same of the modern world, I guess, but the fact remains that Earth is a better place to live in than ever. All civilizations have a myth about the Golden Age of the past, but they're just myths.

Speaking of might makes right, that would be the basis of everything in the Western Isles.

Durban in FE7 did not strike me as the type that screams organized government. As much as I despise feudalism, absolute monarchism, or for that matter any system that places one over the other based on blood, even they are better than anarchy. I can't think of a single place where anarchy worked out well.

Mining operations, sailing (trading, fishing), and mercenary work would be the primary industries of the Western Isles. I suppose there's room for agriculture but then over 3/4 of the population were always engaged in agriculture in the pre-industrial age.

Anyhow, things get bad at any time (and they always did before the 20th century) and that 'sailing' will turn into piracy and that 'mercenary work' will turn into banditry. It's almost like Newtonian physics. It's not even a conjecture, but a guaranteed prophecy. Certain human behaviors never change.

No centralized government, obviously. An oligarchy of a sort with local warlords taking the place of the nobility is possible. Doubtless such 'governments' are short-lived.

All the fighters and warriors come from this place: a clear indication of the prominence of hard physical labor as the primary method of earning one's keep.

Never seen the slightest sign of intelligence from this place's inhabitants. Usually this kind of a setting would be fitting for the archetype of the noble savage, but it doesn't even have that. See Gonzales. Before the 20th century, he would've been abandoned by age five. In the 20th century, they would have locked him in an institution. Down Syndrome actually sounds like a decent explanation for this guy.

No matter the excuse, pirates are pirates and bandits are bandits. That the Western Isles produce so many of them says something.

All of what I've written above obviously assumes that there is some sort of a ranking system of civilizations. Unfair? Definitely. But you're lying if you say that you don't want to live in civilizations that foster longer life-spans, limit misuse of arbitrary power, provide more or less equal opportunities, and enforce property rights. Not perfectly, of course, but better than most. I trust my readers are intelligent enough to know where those civilizations are (hint: those kinds of civilizations aren't found in China, India, the Soviet bloc, Latin America, Africa, Southeast Asia minus Singapore, and the Middle East. If ever you find someone from those places that claim otherwise, he/she's either one of the parasitic elites or one of the brainwashed sheep).

Although, there is something to be said for Costa Rica, the Baltic states, and... no, that's it.

Admittedly, Latin America is Spain's fault (including dat genocide nobody wants to talk about. Hitler is a joke compared to the conquistadors, though I'll grant the latter had more time to kill tens of millions with diseased blankets and slavery). The Soviet bloc is Russia's fault. The Belgians really did a number on Congo. Coastal West-Africa can be blamed on America and Spain. Southeast Asia is France's fault. Israel/Palestine can be blamed on Britain, Russia, and America. Iraq's a monster of American make. South Africa is entirely Britain's fault, and so is Sri Lanka. I'm sure I'm missing a few but the rest is entirely their own damned fault.

Furthermore, things like temperate climate, ready access to potable water, having the greatest dietary options by a stroke of geographic luck, all matter (Jeffrey Sachs). Two places hit the jackpot: Western Europe and China.

BTW, Georgia just passed a law that allows concealed carry to church and school. America should never have lifted martial law in the South. You can't find that kind of retardation anywhere else in the world. The federal government seriously needs to review family trees in Georgia, which I suspect have these awkward knots and ties. It's not that I don't understand the South needs guns (God damn possums, snakes, wild pigs, etc) but really? I hope the fuckers who passed that law get shot in their own churches or in their children's schools during parent-teacher conferences. I would laugh for hours.

* * *

Dear readers,

In light of a couple of recent reviews, I've realized that I was writing this story half-heartedly. God knows why fanfiction is telling me 'heartedly' is not a word, the incompetent crap.

I believe it stems from my desire to finish this series quickly. I have a lot of things to do in real life. I've played FE6 twice or maybe thrice where I've played FE7 over half a dozen times. Suffice to say, I don't care about FE6 as much as I do FE7, and this attitude extended to prep work going into this story.

Therefore, I'm planning to rewrite the story from chapter 1 if even one reader messages me to do so. I'll even play FE6 once more. I'll do psychoanalysis for the cast of FE6. That said, this prep work will take time, and the updates will be correspondingly slower. Summer's also coming up and I work during summers. However, if even one reader tells me that he/she wants a more fully realized version of FE6, I'll take the time to make it so. That will be my one concession to my own ego in this series.

One of my readers have told me that my readers may be afraid to state their opinions in reviews. I have no idea why. This is the internet, and one of its greatest virtues is privacy. This is a site about fan fiction. There is no onus on you whatsoever to hold back, and I don't think I've ever told people to hold back from expressing their opinions. Only in the anonymity of the internet do people have truly equal rights. The very point of having a Byronic hero is to be judged. Whether the hero is likable is immaterial. I assure you I'm probably one of the people most likely to be able to kill their babies. If you read that sentence literally, by the way, please do humanity a favor and die.

As my readers and reviewers would know, I respond to reviews by private messaging. If you're curious about the direction of character development or plot developments, PM me. Most explanations would probably require the use of spoilers, but recent research suggests that most people enjoy spoilers anyways (two groups of a hundred people each, same movie, one group sent in knowing the ending, the other sent in knowing jack $hit. Repeated experiment, always with the former group having enjoyed the movie more. Not definite proof of course. Statistics are malleable).

If you're curious but don't want spoilers, the short version is that I take pride in my cynicism and my heroes are the likes of Nietzsche and Voltaire.


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